


Karma Suture

by Ad_Absurdum



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-17
Updated: 2010-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 04:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Absurdum/pseuds/Ad_Absurdum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can someone tell me why once again we're food for vampires tonight?" An away mission, after which things go badly out of control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is AU where Malcolm Reed has never even set a foot on Enterprise. Crossover with Buffy-verse (for further reference, please watch episode 12 of season 3: "Helpless").  
> Inspired by The Monochrome Set's songs "Love Zombies" and "Karma Suture".

_Can someone tell me  
What is it we're doing under the lights  
Can someone tell me  
Why once again we're food for vampires tonight_

It's paradise when those zombie eyes  
Are trained on you and sucking you dry

-The Monochrome Set "Love Zombies"

  
xx xx xx

They arrived at a very strange place indeed.

The planet was very Earth-like, even its people looked a lot like Humans. The landing party, consisting of Captain Archer, Commander Tucker, Ensign Sato and the Head of Security - Lieutenant Commander Hayes, flew down to a small town on one of the continents on the planet's northern hemisphere. They spent a pleasant day wandering around, Hoshi quite excited upon realising the alien language had syntax very similar to Earth's English.

They decided to stay for the night.

The night, however, brought with it creatures that belonged in the Humans' worst dreams. There should be no place for them in the real world and yet werewolves, demons, vampires – their faces twisted in horrible masks – freely roamed the streets.

Trip watched in shocked disbelief as one of them assaulted some hapless passerby. The vampire didn't manage to feed on them, though. He was promptly stabbed with a sharpened piece of wood by a girl who appeared seemingly out of nowhere and, with a harsh cry, he turned into a pile of dust.

Trip woke up from his stunned stupor feeling someone grab him by the arm. He spun around, prepared to fight, but it was only Hayes urging him and the rest of the team to run.

"We need to get to the shuttlepod!" Tucker shouted.

"We need to find a place to hide," came Hayes's not unreasonable answer.

xx xx xx

"Can someone tell me what we are doing under these lights?" Tucker panted out and nervously looked at his companions. Archer, Hoshi and Trip himself stood under a brightly shining streetlamp. Hayes went ahead to check the safety of an apparently empty nearby house. It wouldn't do them any good if they barricaded themselves inside only to find a horde of blood-thirsty monsters behind their backs.

"We're going to end up as food for vampires tonight," Hoshi stated quietly; her face, if not her tone, betraying fear.

"No, we won't let—" Archer's determined words were cut off by a cry of pain. It was Hayes.

Running in that direction, the Captain made the decision. Immediate transport was their only option in this situation. The shuttlepod was well-concealed, therefore not a problem – they would come back for it later. He whipped out his communicator as the three of them reached the house. Hayes lay in the corridor, crumpled lifelessly on the floor. His neck at an unnatural angle – broken.

"Archer to Enterprise."

"Captain?" T'Pol's voice was distorted by static.

"Transport us back to the ship. Now!"

"There's an ion storm approaching. We can only beam one person at a time. Please, stand by."

Hoshi went first. Then Hayes's body – Archer morbidly thinking about the letter he would have to record for the Commander's family. A brief argument ensued over who should go next. The Captain was reluctant to leave Trip. As a commanding officer he should take care of his subordinates. As a friend, he simply couldn't in good conscience go first. Eventually, Trip pointed out that Jonathan was more important as the Captain – a sentiment Hayes would no doubt have shared – and Archer went, almost against his own will.

Tucker stood alone in the dimly lit corridor.

"T'Pol?" he held his communicator, listening to static through which the Sub-Commander's voice could barely be heard.

"Electric discharge in the planet's atmosphere rendered the transporter temporarily inoperative. Please wait, Commander."

"Trip," it was Archer's voice this time and Tucker felt slightly relieved that at least he and Hoshi were safe. "Hess says it shouldn't take more than ten minutes to fix. We're going to get you out of there."

Trip didn't doubt that for a moment.

He pocketed the communicator and looked around. He should at least find some room, preferably with a heavy door and no window.

Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. Squinting a little he could only see the approaching figure was not overly tall. When it came closer, Tucker breathed a sigh of relief – the newcomer, a man, looked normal: dark hair, casual clothes and no sign of otherworldly origin.

"You know what's going on there? It's insanity." Trip made a face.

The stranger smiled faintly, his eyes thoughtfully inspecting Tucker.

"I mean, vampires..." Trip fidgeted under the intense gaze. The stranger's silence was unnerving.

When he finally spoke, though, the voice was soft and pleasant. "It's just the way things are." The statement accompanied by a shrug.

"Er, right." Trip wasn't paying attention to his own words anymore. He stared fascinated as the stranger came closer. It was mesmerising, the way the man moved, all deadly grace. And his eyes – dark blue, stormy, hypnotising, trapping Tucker and commanding him to stay in place.

The two of them were barely centimetres apart now. Trip stood paralysed and watched as the other man's face changed into that of a vampire. The features sharpening, eyes going steely gray and still Trip couldn't look away.

He felt fangs sink into his neck. It hurt like hell and he gave a choked cry which unexpectedly, startingly, turned into a moan of pleasure. It was sheer madness but instead of pain, the only thing Trip felt now was pure bliss. He was aware of his blood, spilling from the wound, being hungrily licked and sucked, and shivered with delight.

"So sweet..." He heard the vampire murmur; the sibilants lingering, almost hissed.

Oh, this was paradise. This was better than sex. Trip couldn't understand what he had been so afraid of. He was getting weaker by the minute but it didn't matter. He clutched the vampire closer to him, as much for his own support as to prevent the creature from moving away.

Trip's vision was greyeing. Soon he was gently lowered to the floor, cradled in the vampire's arms and slowly drained of his life. As the last drops of his blood were carefully lapped, the blackness enveloped the Human.


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness.

With a bit of light, becoming grey.

With a flash of memory, becoming steely grey.

With consciousness regained, becoming reddish grey. The colour of the world behind closed eyelids.

"Ah, it's good to see you back with us, Mr Tucker." Phlox's cheerful voice sounded in Trip's ears. He pried his eyes open and somewhat blearily looked around Sickbay.

"How are you feeling?"

Trip blinked up at the Doctor and grew toughtful for a moment.

"Fine." Actually, he did feel fine, if a little weak. "Sleepy?" He wasn't too sure.

"Good, good," Phlox beamed.

"What happened?"

"You lost a lot of blood, Commander, but I'm not sure exactly how it happened. I could not find any wounds that would explain it. Although when you materialised on the transporter pad, I could've sworn there were two small marks on your neck." The Doctor eyed him suspiciously. "They disappeared shortly after. So, perhaps _you_ could tell _me_ what happened."

Trip was saved from having to think about a plausible (at the very least) answer by Archer who chose this moment to walk into the Sickbay.

"How are you, Trip?" the Captain's relief at seeing him awake was almost palpable.

"Good." Tucker smiled reassuringly.

"That's good." Archer plopped down on a chair beside Trip's biobed and sighed heavily. "For a moment we were really worried about you there. When we transported you back to Enterprise you were unconscious. Do you remember anything?"

"Uhm..." Trip bit his lip and looked at Phlox who waited at his bedside with a curious expression on his face. Damn, time for the truth, apparently. "Well, you know how it was down on that planet, right?" he began reluctantly.

Archer nodded.

"So... I think one of them bit me." Trip confessed, hoping that Phlox would assume he meant some insect or animal or whatever else the Doc pleased. Because, really, how crazy 'a vampire' would sound?

"Are you referring to creatures called vampires, Commander?" Well, apparently not as crazy as he thought.

"The Captain told me what the team had encountered on the planet. Most fascinating. As I understand, the existence of vampires is a popular myth on Earth," Phlox clarified.

Trip closed his eyes. "Well, it was no myth down there," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "And I'm sure as hell it was no myth that killed Hayes."

The Doctor's face grew serious. "Yes, sadly Lieutenant Commander Hayes wasn't as fortunate as you, Commander."

"A vampire bit you?" Archer finally regained his power of speech, as his initial surprise turned into concern.

"Yeah," Trip grudgingly admitted, desperately trying to forget how wonderful it felt. He winced at the direction his thoughts had taken.

"Being fed on would certainly explain the blood loss. And, to some extent, the quick healing process." Phlox exchanged a worried look with the Captain and glanced at a display above Trip's bed. "You're not feeling any... other symptoms, are you, Commander?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you hungry, for example?"

The question puzzled Trip. For about three seconds.

"Well, now that you mention it, I guess I am. Yeah, a nice raw juicy steak and a cup of fresh blood would do just fine."

Archer and Phlox looked startled while Tucker glared at both of them.

"What the hell, Jon? You don't seriously think I've become some blood-sucking... thing, do you?"

"No no, of course not. It's just..." the Captain trailed off awkwardly.

"We do not know how being bitten affected your physiology, Commander." Phlox's tone was serious. "The result may resemble a completely harmless dog bite or it may resemble a snake bite. I detected a mild neurotoxin in your blood and although it shouldn't be a problem, since it broke down completely about an hour ago, it's better to be safe than sorry. Wouldn't you agree, Mr Tucker?"

"Yeah, I s'ppose you're right," Trip grunted. "Can I go back to my quarters now?"

"I don't see why not but please, stay off duty until the day after tomorrow."

"What? Jon!"

"Captain," Phlox continued, ignoring Trip's outburst, "please, make sure the Commander actually gets to his quarters and not to the Engineering."

Trip scowled but the look was obviously lost on the Denobulan, so he was left with no choice but to obediently shuffle along with his Capt'n.

They were walking down the corridor to the turbolift. Tucker was the first to break the silence. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost four hours. You had blood transfusion and Phlox injected you with something to stimulate the production of your blood cells."

"Oh." Silence fell again.

"Why didn't you defend yourself, use a phase pistol?" Archer's voice was troubled. "Hayes insisted on each of us taking one, after all, and good thing he did too."

"Dunno. It happened so fast." Which, of course, was not true. Trip felt bad lying to Jon but what else could he say? That he couldn't lift a finger then, even if he wanted to? Which he didn't. That it had been so damn good to be touched by that creature? That to feel those teeth grazing and piercing his skin gave him such pleasure it was almost unbearable? He shivered at the memory.

"You OK?" Archer watched him from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, I'm good. Hey, you want to grab something to eat?" Tucker quickly changed the subject.

"Sure, why not."

xx xx xx

"We're not moving?" Trip was surprised seeing static stars behind a Mess Hall window. And now that he thought about it, his precious engine was rather silent too.

"No. We have to wait for that ion storm to subside because now we can't even fly down to retrieve Shuttlepod One. T'Pol says the storm should be over in about three days and meanwhile she's busy studying it. Apparently, it's pretty unusual but she lost me somewhere in the middle of explaining exactly why."

Trip smiled slightly at the little joke and stared into his glass of warm milk.

"Not very hungry, are you?" Jon observed amusedly.

"I guess I'm just tired. Let me sleep the whole thing off and I'll be as good as new." He mustered a grin.

"Go rest, Trip. You are off duty anyway."

"Thanks, Capt'n."

xx xx xx

Trip slept the rest of that afternoon and the night, dreaming of absolutely nothing.

He woke up feeling surprisingly well and headed straight to Engineering. He stayed there throughout breakfast, lunch and dinner and would have stayed even longer if it hadn't been for Archer who dropped in and dragged him away.

"It's not as if I was doing any serious work." Trip glowered at his friend. "Just some routine check-ups."

"Have you eaten anything? I didn't see you in the Mess Hall today."

"Geez, Jon, you don't have to be such a mother hen. I grabbed something earlier."

He didn't. In truth, Trip wasn't hungry at all. The tought of food left him indifferent at best and a bit nauseous at worst.

"Really?" Jon looked like he wasn't entirely convinced. "Then just humour me. Come on, I heard the Chief made a pecan pie."

xx xx xx

The meal was rather strange. The only one actually eating was Archer while Tucker merely poked at the slice of pie on his plate.

Finally he made some excuse about being tired and went to his cabin.

He was thirsty. Gulping down a glass of water, Trip grimaced slightly. The taste was somehow wrong. Too... tasteless if that made any sense. He shrugged it off and went to bed.

In his sleep, he could hear footsteps. And heartbeats. Some fast and rushed, some calm, steady and measured. He didn't know if it was only his dreams or real people outside his quarters. He opted for the former.

The next day was no different from the previous one, except Trip started to feel some unexplained restlessness. It was like he couldn't quite find a place for himself. Couldn't quite focus on what he was doing. Still, he managed to cope, slipping only once when he reprimanded, much too harshly for such a trifle, some hapless crewman. For which he promptly apologised.

Perhaps it just wasn't his day.

When Trip fell asleep that night, he dreamed that he followed one particular set of footsteps. Somehow, he seemed to know to whom those footsteps belonged. He found their owner in one of the less used corridors – the other man leaning casually against a bulkhead. Trip grinned in triumph and then... Then he sank his newly grown fangs into the man's neck. A strange taste - unfamiliar, but oh so wonderful - exploded on his tongue. Trip murmured in appreciation and swallowed.

He woke up sweaty and breathless as if he just ran through all of Enterprise's decks.

By the time the morning came, the disturbing images faded. The memory of Trip's dreamed-up victim's face, however, remained vivid. He knew those chiselled features, dark blue eyes and strangely self-satisfied smirk.

Trip shook his head. He hoped to forget what had happened on that planet. It looked like it was going to take much longer than he expected.

He licked his lips, remembering the taste of what could only be the alien's, the vampire's, blood. It was oddly addictive. He wanted more.


	3. Chapter 3

Tucker stepped into the Captain's Mess. He figured Jon deserved some reassurance that he wasn't going to waste away, after all.

"Morning, Capt'n."

"Hey, Trip. I see you finally decided to stop hiding in Engineering." Archer smiled at Trip's sheepish look.

"Yeah, something like that. T'Pol's not joining us today?"

"She'll be here in a moment. Ah, speak of the devil."

T'Pol entered the Mess. "Captain, Commander," she greeted the men.

"So," Archer spoke when they all sat, "how is that ion storm? Can we fly down to the planet today?"

Trip perked up at Jonathan's words. Ever since the early morning all he could really think about was that fateful away mission. At some point he realised, a bit startled, that he wanted to go back to that place. Badly. And he wanted to meet his vampire again. 'His vampire' - what an idiotic description. Trip thought resignedly that it really fitted.

"I believe so," the Vulcan meanwhile replied. "The conditions will be optimal in approximately three hours. I assume you would like to visit the planet during its daytime, in which case the recommended time of departure would be 13:00 Enterprise time. You will land twenty minutes after the sunrise."

The Captain nodded, making a note on his PADD.

"Can I tag along?" Trip looked up from the depths of his still full coffee mug. He _had_ to go there; no matter how. And better soon.

"Are you sure?" Archer looked uncertain. "I was going to take Travis and no one else. I don't want to put at risk more people than I have to."

"I'd just like to see the place once more. Besides everything else, the town was real nice. And it would be day, anyhow, so nothing can happen, right?"

"I really don't know, Trip."

"Please?" Yes, he begged and he was shameless.

"Well... OK then," Archer finally capitulated. "But we're only staying for as long as it takes me to make the trip to the other shuttlepod. That's about ten minutes."

Tucker silently sighed in relief. "It's all right. I just want to stretch my legs a little."

xx xx xx

As the time of their departure neared, Trip grew increasingly nervous. He paced the length of his cabin, hands shoved in the pockets of his uniform. He wondered if the Doctor could have been right – that it was like he had been bitten by a snake; neurotoxin instead of venom. Phlox did say it had broken down fairly quick but what if some traces lingered? Trip had a bad feeling about this one.

To make things even worse, he was real hungry now. It was like last night some alien craving had been triggered within him. He smiled grimly at the awful pun. Yes, he was hungry but not for normal food, oh no. He wanted blood, and not human's either – the very thought sickened him – but just remembering his recent dream made his mouth water. Taste memory sure was a funny thing.

He rubbed his face, suddenly tired. Maybe Phlox's scanner didn't pick up anything unusual but Trip knew his behaviour wasn't normal. Hell, he should've been locked up, nice and cozy, if it was.

The sound of the comm and Jonathan Archer's voice jolted him out of his musings. "Trip, get down to the launchbay. We're leaving in ten minutes."

"On my way, Capt'n."

The flight passed uneventfully. Archer and Mayweather talked while Trip bounced his leg up and down nervously and, from time to time, made half-hearted attempt to join the conversation. It didn't work very well, as his attention, along with his eyes, would drift past the person he was speaking to, to the pod's window and the planet's surface below.

"Are you OK, Sir?" Mayweather finally ventured.

"Yeah, 'm fine," was the distracted answer.

Archer only sighed and turned to the pilot's console.

"We're approaching the coordinates." Mayweather began preparations for the landing.

Mercifully, they found Shuttlepod One right where they had left it – just outside the town they visited but hidden well enough, so that it couldn't be easily discovered. After all, it was a pre-warp culture and the ways in which Enterprise could mess up its development were countless.

Luckily, this time it looked like the shuttlepod was untouched.

"All right, Trip, spill it." Archer and Tucker were walking to the pod when the Captain spoke.

"Huh?"

"I can see there's something bothering you and don't even try to tell me there isn't. For the past couple of days you've been like a zombie. What's going on?"

"Uh..." Trip hoped he managed to keep the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look off his face. "Well... yeah, you might be right." He breathed out a humourless chuckle.

They reached the shuttlepod and Archer motioned for Tucker to get inside.

Trip made a quick decision. "Ah, you know what, I need to get to the town."

"What for?" Jon frowned.

"Er... sightseeing? I mean it's probably the last time we're here so we could take one last look at it."

The Captain was still frowning. "I don't think it's a good idea, Trip. I really don't want to take any unnecessary risks. I thought you, of all people, would understand that. Let's head back to Enterprise."

"Capt'n," something in Tucker's tone made Archer pause. "I _have_ to get to that town."

"Why?"

The Captain watched his Engineer suspiciously and meanwhile Trip was quickly approaching the point where he no longer cared what it would take to get him what he wanted. Whatever was happening to him – and something definitely was happening, of that he had no doubt – was getting worse. Now that Trip actually stood on the planet, the urge to find his stranger grew with every passing minute. It almost felt like a physical pull, a need that was rapidly surpassing all the other ones.

"I lost something there," Trip lied. Yeah, Trip old man, you clearly lost your mind, mocked that part of his brain that was still sane.

Archer almost did a double take. "What?!"

Tucker cringed internally at the tone and the beginnings of anger in Jon's eyes.

"Trip," Archer took a deep breath in an effort to remain calm, "are you telling me that you left a piece of our equipment here?"

"But I know where it should be," Trip ploughed on, determined. "And I'm pretty sure no one has found it."

"Really." That wasn't a question. "What was it, anyway?"

"Uh, my scanner from the Engineering."

Archer gritted his teeth. He couldn't even comfort himself with thoughts of formal reprimand or suitable punishment Trip would have been subjected to. After all, it was an accident. "Why did you take it on an away mission?" he managed to sound relatively calm.

"I forgot I had it," Trip lied on. He realised he felt absolutely no guilt about doing so. He had other priorities now. Getting away from Jon was on top of the list.

"I must have lost it in that house we ran to the last time. I'll just check there and be back before you know it."

Archer gave him a nasty look and flipped open his communicator. "Travis, go back to Enterprise."

"Sir?" confusion was evident in Mayweather's voice.

"Apparently, Commander Tucker and I have some unfinished business here. We'll be returning in about an hour. Archer out."

Tucker kept a toughtful eye on his friend. The events weren't exactly developing the way they should.

"You don't have to go with me, Jon," he began.

"Not another word, Trip. Let's go."

They walked in complete silence. Tucker as if on autopilot - without having to think about it, he somehow knew the way. An instinct that he didn't even know he possessed led him unerringly to the place where they first met. Trip just knew his vampire would be there.

The front door was unlocked. Archer warily looked around before drawing his phase pistol.

"Put it down." Tucker laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

The Captain looked at him in complete disbelief. "You do remember what happened the last time, right?"

"Of course," Tucker replied tensely. As if he could ever forget. "But the circumstances are different now."

Before Archer could ask what he meant by that, Trip murmured "Stay here, I'll go inside," and slipped past him. Jon, however, was close behind, muttering irritably "Are you out of your mind? It may look like the house is deserted but I'm pretty sure it is not."

"You should stay away." Trip's words were quiet but forceful. There was a dangerous glint in his eye that seemed oddly out of place for him. It was determined and cold, almost inhumanly so.

That made Archer pause. It looked like Trip was prepared to stop him from following, by any means necessary.

"Why? what is it?" he finally asked.

"Nothing." An obvious lie. Archer realised that Trip hadn't really answered that very same question earlier.

"It'd be better if you stayed here. You know, to keep out anyone who might want to come in."

That actually made some sense and Archer decided he might as well just humour Trip for a while.

"All right," he sighed. "Be careful."

Tucker went further inside the building. The sole window at the fork of the corridor provided hardly any light – barely enough to prevent him from truly living up to his nickname and tripping over his own feet.

He went upstairs and shivered slightly as a cold gust of wind from an open window hit the nape of his neck. Just like the floor below, the permanent twilight here absorbed the shape of every object and revealed only indistinct blurred outlines.

Trip had a fleeting thought that normally the place would give him the creeps or at least make him uncomfortable. It had this sort of tomb-like atmosphere.

Now he was merely a little nervous and a lot excited. He sensed his goal was close by. He briefly wondered if it was his subconsciousness playing tricks on him or some kind of sixth sense he had developed in the last three days.

"Hello?" Trip called, a trace of uncertainty in his voice.

"Ah, you came back."

Trip whirled around. Behind him stood a familiar figure, the one that had recently plagued his thoughts day and night. It was a relief to finally see it outside his own mind.

"How do you do that?" came out of Tucker's mouth instead of a greeting.

"Do what?" the newcomer frowned slightly.

"Move so quietly."

"Ages of practice," the alien smirked. "You know, I didn't think you'd come back. Of course, when I saw you simply dissolving into the air, I should've realised anything was possible. You're not from here, are you?" more of a statement than a question. "Even our military don't have such technology."

"Really?" Trip stalled. He doubted that revealing the truth would be a good idea. After all, it was a first contact situation. The Captain would kill him if something went wrong. On the other hand, could anything go any more wrong?

"As far as I know our scientists experiment with transporting single atoms but we have nothing so advanced. Where are you really from?"

Trip sighed and decided that spilling the beans wouldn't make much difference now anyway. "We're from a planet called Earth, on a mission of exploration. We saw your planet on our starship's sensors, wanted to see it up close and, well..." he trailed off.

"You know," he continued after a moment, shaking his head, "the strangest thing is that on Earth vampires, werewolves... they are not real; just fiction. We were really freaked out to see... all this."

The stranger nodded his understanding but remained silent.

"So," Trip spoke again. "This vampire thing, is it normal for you? I mean, for your world?"

The man shifted his gaze. He appeared to be a little uncomfortable, Trip thought.

"Well, no," he finally said. "It's actually something most people don't believe in. They tend to... underestimate our existence." His smile chilled Trip to the bone.

Then he watched as the human-looking face transformed and the fangs elongated. For perhaps the first time since he set his foot on the planet, Trip realised the vampire could easily kill him. It would only take a moment and he'd be quite dead if the other wished so.

He shuddered as a pang of hunger shot through his own body. It was the first time it got so intense. Before, the nearly constant craving was present but, sort of, tucked away in a remote corner of his mind and, more importantly, painless. Now, Trip felt as if someone grabbed his insides and twisted them.

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip so hard, he was certain he broke the skin.

He couldn't wait any longer. Hearing a soft intake of breath, Trip looked again and, sure enough, the vampire was standing right in front of him.

"Do you want...?"

"Yeah," Trip whispered. "Please, do something." He didn't care if he had to beg. He was desperate and filled with pure, all-consuming need.

And so, Tucker stared transfixed as sharp teeth pierced the skin of the vampire's own wrist. The blood slowly began trickling down his outstretched hand.

The sight sobered Trip's dazed brain a little. The blood was red. He wasn't sure why he expected it to be different, more alien somehow. It looked so much like human's... He was torn between need and repulsion. He wanted it, thirsted for it, but couldn't quite bring himself to take the final step.

"Drink," the vampire urged him quietly. "It'll only get worse if you don't." He brought his hand to Tucker's mouth, the blood dripping down his fingers.

He traced one fingertip along Trip's upper lip, coating it with the scarlet liquid. Tucker barely dared to breathe, almost afraid of the scent.

"Come on," there was a hint of humour in the alien's voice. "I'm not biting myself again."

Trip tentatively, with only the tip of his tongue, licked the blood off his lip. His eyes widened at the taste. It was amazing – smooth and rich and everything he wished for.

"That's right," the vampire half purred, half growled as Trip sucked the blood off his fingers and licked the palm clean. He moved higher to tongue the small wounds on the vampire's wrist. They had already started to heal but Trip managed to coax from them one or two mouthfuls of the precious liquid and he swallowed eagerly. It burned slightly, pleasantly warming him like a fine wine. And like wine that had been drunk too quickly, it made him a little dizzy.

He sat down on the stone floor and closed his eyes. He suddenly felt very tired. Resting his head against a wall, Trip sensed a movement at his side. He looked up to see the vampire sitting next to him.

"Thanks," Tucker smiled and licked his lips again, delighting in the aftertaste. "You have no idea how much I needed that."

"Oh, I think I have," the vampire replied smugly. He patted Trip's shoulder. "You should rest now."

Trip couldn't agree more but there was one thing he wanted to know before he allowed himself to drift off. "I guess it's a bit too late for formal introductions now but what's your name?"

The question seemed to puzzle his companion a little but then he said quietly, "It's Reed. Malcolm Reed."

Trip nodded, his eyes falling shut. "I'm Charles Tucker the Third, Chief Engineer on Enterprise. Nice to meet ya."

He fell asleep so quickly it was like losing consciousness. His body slumped against Reed's side, while his mind slipped into oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4

Malcolm Reed's life had certainly never been dull. From the moment he was recruited as a young man to work for the Watcher's Council to that rather unfortunate but quite life-changing moment about twenty years ago.

It had been stupid, _stupid_ mistake on his part. He let himself be tricked, stepped too close, was bitten and the next thing he knew, he was chasing after a vampire slayer, trying to kill her. He ended up with some bumps and bruises (that healed with astonishing speed, thanks to his being a vampire) after she knocked him sensless. By dumping a whole bookcase on his head. Had he still been alive and breathing then, he would have certainly been crushed under its weight or at least would have had a few ribs broken. Being a vampire did have its perks.

He spent the first month after being changed in a sort of daze, trying to adjust to his new life of being half-dead and avoiding the slayer. It wasn't that hard – she was the only one in town and when one did not cross her path, one could exist quite peacefully. He wasn't afraid of her – with his combat training he was more than a match for any slayer - but why fight when it wasn't really needed.

He liked hunting, but didn't always kill his food. After the initial high passed, he made sure not to kill people unnecessarily, to never feed on them to unhealthy excess. Though before he learned how much he could drink safely, there were some... accidents. He never really liked the taste of blood anyway and after a while he found the butcher's, where he could get animal's blood. It certainly saved time and effort.

Reed knew he was something of a rarity among his vampire brethren. Most of them were ruthless killers, murdering people without compunction – which was a given – or even need. He wasn't. After he'd killed those few people he had some particular grudge against, he saw no reason to be that violent anymore. He simply thought of unnecessary deaths as pointless. That in turn, practically made him an outsider. Not that he cared all that much.

Now, sitting in what was his temporary shelter from the daylight, he wondered why he told the alien – no, Charles – his true name. The one he used before he was changed and the one he hadn't said out loud for nearly twenty years.

Reed glanced down at the head resting on his shoulder. The man didn't look too alien, funny that. Reed always imagined that if life on other planets was ever discovered, people (or whatever lived there) wouldn't be so similar. He shook his head – he'd definitely read too much science-fiction.

He couldn't exactly say he was disappointed, though. Whatever the man lacked in appearance, he more than made up for in the taste - Reed had never drunk anything so delicious as this alien's blood. Even if his scepticism about the whole "I'm from another planet" explanation would have been justified, the taste allowed no doubts. It was so different; sweet, full of flavour and, oh, he wanted it again.

He growled quietly, inhaling Charles's scent. He wondered how long it took this species to recover. He remembered that his own change must have taken at least half an hour.

The man at his side stirred and slowly opened his eyes.

Reed was quite impressed. "Your species adapt very quickly," he said with satisfaction.

"Humans," Trip automatically replied, blinking sleepily.

"Sorry?"

"Our species, they're called Humans."

"Oh, I understand. Although I suppose you don't look very... Human right now." Reed smirked.

"What?" Startled, Trip run a hand over his face. It felt like his own and yet... Yet it didn't. His eyes seemed to have sunk deeper, there were faint ridges on his forehead, but of course, the most prominent difference were the elongated canines. Trip touched his new fangs with the tips of his fingers.

"How...? Oh God," he mumbled, slightly shocked. "It's... Damn."

Reed appeared to be pleased, "You finally look like yourself."

"What's that s'pposed to mean?"

"You're a vampire. _This_ is your real face."

Trip had a suspicion his face really wasn't something he himself would like to see.

"But you don't always look like that, right?."

"No," the other vampire conceded. "Only when I'm... hungry or hunting." He hesitated – there were other times when he looked _like that_ but that was a tad too personal to share for now. "If you're neither you should be able to control the change."

Trip nodded and focused for a moment. He was still touching his face and this time he actually felt as his features smoothed and went back to normal. Or what used to be normal only this morning. Things changed fast, but he didn't think he would ever be able to call his 'vampire look' anything but freakish.

Just then Reed's words, and one in particular, finally registered. "Hunting?"

"Well, you'll have to eat, you know. I myself, haven't hunted for a while now but..."

"But you were in the middle of it, while we were here three days ago," Trip finished in an accusatory tone.

"No," there was a tiny hint of indignation in Reed's voice. "But let me give you a piece of advice for the future, especially here: before barging in anywhere, you'd better check if the place is really empty."

"We thought we did," Tucker sighed miserably, but the next moment his temper flared up again. "Did you kill Hayes?" he demanded.

"Who?"

"Our security officer. When we found him, he had a broken neck." If Reed was in any way responsible for that death, Trip was going make him pay for it. He had no idea how but he'd do it, his growing attachment to Reed notwithstanding.

"No. If it was me, you wouldn't have found the body," and there was that familiar cold smile again. Trip was used to it by now. It was somehow reassuring and, coupled with Reed's words, brought him an inexplicable but profound relief. He tried to cover it with a gruff "What t'hell does that mean?"

"Death by my hand wouldn't be so sloppy. And I certainly wouldn't have left the body where it could be found by those who may wish to go after me."

"Oh," Trip relaxed despite the disturbing explanation. As absurd as it seemed, he trusted the vampire.

"If this... Hayes wasn't fed on," Reed continued, "then it was probably some demon. There are plenty of them around."

"Yeah, I noticed," Tucker mumbled, thinking he might as well count himself among them now. Hell, this was bizarre.

He turned his head to look at the vampire again. Reed was staring fixedly at him, or rather at his neck.

Trip frowned. "What?"

The grey eyes darted up. Tucker recognised the expression in them and felt a sharp rush of excitement.

"You hungry?"

"A bit. Would you mind...?"

"No, go ahead."

Trip tilted his head and closed his eyes in anticipation. He felt goosebumps rise on his skin when Reed gently breathed on the side of his neck, and when a tongue traced wet paths over his veins, Trip could barely hold back a whimper.

Reed, for his part, was still amazed by Tucker's reaction to him. He had never seen such eagerness, such obvious pleasure that would be caused solely by being fed on. Was this the case with all of the species?

He moved away from the main artery – he didn't want to take any chances with Charles's life, or unlife, as it were – and licked the skin where Trip's neck met his shoulder. One should always savour his meal, he thought, especially as nice as this one. He bit down and smiled, hearing the Human moan.

Reed lost himself in the taste and feel of Tucker's body pressing closer. Trip's fingers slipped into his hair, caressing, holding his head in place.

By the time their ears picked up a sound of another voice, it was too late.

xx xx xx

Outside, Jon waited. And waited. It felt like at least an hour had passed since Trip went into that damn pile of bricks. He nervously fingered his communicator. Then abruptly changed his mind and decided to look for Tucker in person.

The building certainly looked like it was abandoned but Jon had a creepy feeling his every step was watched. He shook it off, he had to concentrate.

As he neared the end of the upper floor hall, he heard voices and something that might have been a whimper. He tightened his grip on the phase pistol. If that was Tucker, he must be in real pain to sound like that.

"Trip, are you OK?" The question died on Archer's lips when he saw the scene before him.

Clearly, Tucker had been attacked. The Captain pushed away the momentary guilt over the fact that it had been partly his fault - he just shouldn't have let him go alone. But now there was no time for that.

The attacker, a vampire, Jon realised, was still too preoccupied to notice him. Without further delay, Archer aimed his phase pistol and stunned the creature.

Or so he thought.

The shot had no effect on the vampire. Well, apart from pissing him off, if that snarl was anything to go by. The narrowed eyes focused on Archer, a hateful look them.

At that moment Jon heard a sound resembling a pained moan. It must have been Trip's.

Watching the alien stand up, he hastily changed the pistol's setting to 'kill' and fired. Just in time. He caught the vampire in a sort of mid-leap, grey eyes flashing with surprise before he crumpled to the floor.

"Trip?" Archer moved to check on his friend, keeping half an eye and the pistol trained on the still body – just in case.

"Huh?" Archer noted that Trip seemed unharmed, if not entirely coherent.

"Where...?" Tucker tried to stand up when his eyes fell on the figure lying on the ground.

"Mal?" He wanted to get closer but Archer's hand, curled around his arm, prevented that.

"It's all right, Trip. He's dead," Jon said in what he hoped to be a soothing tone. He was rather unprepared for the other man's sudden panic and subsequent lunge towards the body.

"Mal? Malcolm?" Tucker frantically reached for the pulse point on Reed's neck. He couldn't feel a thing but that didn't necessarily mean he was dead, right? He was a vampire, for God's sake. And an alien one at that.

"How do you know he's dead?" Trip's mind desperately tried to deny the most probable.

"Stunning didn't affect him at all, so..." Archer left the sentence unfinished, letting Trip figure out the rest.

"You didn't have to kill him." Tucker's tone was a mixture of grief and anger. Archer also noticed worriedly that he touched the alien with unusual gentlesness and care. It was disturbing, to say the least.

"Trip, I had no choice. He would have killed both of us."

"He wouldn't," Trip asserted stubbornly. He didn't look at Archer, his eyes never leaving Reed's face.

"You can't be sure," the Captain sighed tiredly.

"We should get him to Sickbay. Maybe Phlox could take a look at him. We don't know his physiology, maybe he's still alive," Trip babbled nervously, clearly paying no attention to Archer whatsoever.

For a minute Jonathan was so surprised, he didn't know what to say.

"If this is some kind of joke, it's not funny," he finally choked out.

"You gonna leave him like this?"

Archer could hardly believe his ears. The question was wrong on so many levels. It was almost like Trip had forgotten they were dealing with a member of society, whose 'space travel' didn't extend beyond the planet's moon. And, of course, a vampire who could be a direct threat to the Enterprise crew. That decided it.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Archer placed his hand on Trip's shoulder. It was promptly shrugged off.

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

Archer had enough of Trip's behaviour for one day. "That's an order, Commander," he snapped.

"It's all your fault, Capt'n," Tucker's voice radiated hostility. "I told you to stay away. None of this would've happened if you'd listened."

Trip knew deep down that it wasn't exactly true. The confrontation couldn't be avoided and sooner or later he'd have to come clean. Right now, though, his mind was drowning in grief and overwhelming fear that he would never see the other vampire again.

Like a cornered animal, he lashed out. He wasn't even aware that his face changed, he only knew that he would not let anyone take Reed from him.

Baring his fangs, he snarled and attacked.

In the blink of an eye Archer was flat on his back, with a monster that used to be his friend pinning him to he floor, his hand around Jon's throat. Archer gasped as his windpipe was squeezed tightly. He tried to free himself from the grasp but it was near impossible. Trip - or whoever, whatever, he was now - was much stronger than the Human used to be.

Jon still had his phase pistol, though. By some miracle he still clutched it tightly in one hand. With the other, he fruitlessly tried to prise Tucker's fingers off of his neck. It was useless. In a desperate move, with the last of his waning strength, Archer swung the pistol and hit Tucker in the temple. Hard.

It worked. The vampire's body went limp.

Archer greedily drew air into his lungs and then rolled the body off of himself. He looked closer – Trip's face was once again Human. If it wasn't for the pain he felt while breathing, Jon would think it all had been some elaborate hallucination.

He picked up his phase pistol and his eyes widened in shock – it was still set to 'kill'. If he fired... He didn't even want to think about it.

He took out the communicator and rasped into the device, "Archer to Enterprise."

"Captain?" T'Pol's voice held a note of concern. Or maybe it was just Jon's wishful thinking.

"Lock onto Commander Tucker's biosign and transport him back to the ship. He's unconscious now but tell Doctor Phlox to come down to Transporter Bay and sedate him as soon as he materialises. Trip might be..." Archer hesitated for a second, "...dangerous." He hurried on before T'Pol could question him further, "I'll take the shuttlepod and be back as soon as I can. Archer out."

He waited until the shimmer of the transporter beam faded, and quickly headed outside.


	5. Chapter 5

Jonathan Archer watched as Phlox, frowning and muttering to himself, ran a variety of tests and generally fussed over Trip. Blood, tissue, DNA analyses, all kept the Doctor occupied for the last couple of hours.

After returning from the planet, Archer went straight to Sickbay, where he was quickly but quite thoroughly examined and given a nice painkiller. He hadn't left the place since then, watching Phlox bustle about the lab and waiting for Tucker to come out of his drug-induced sleep – Phlox gave him a double dose when he heard exactly what had happened.

Trip was also strapped down to the biobed he was lying on. The sight made Jon wince when he first saw it, but he knew the precaution might prove to be necessary. He was still a bit shaken by the turn of events. How could something that had been a simple mission only a few days ago, become such a mess? A series of particularly unlucky coincidences? bad karma? his own fault? First contact and he already had one death on his conscience. Could it get any worse?

"Captain," Phlox interrupted his grim musings. "I believe I have found the cause of Commander Tucker's condition." The Doctor displayed none of his usual cheerfulness, his face serious as he proceeded with the explanation.

"There are two foreign substances in Mr Tucker's organism. One is the neurotoxin I detected a few days ago when he was brought to Sickbay after his visit to the planet. This time, however, the toxin is much more persistent. It shows no signs of breaking down and this has to do with the second substance. I suspect the Commander ingested it, judging by the pattern of its decomposition and the amount in his blood." Phlox pointed at a colourful image of Trip's blood sample.

"Now, each of these two substances is harmless enough on its own, but together they form a particularly nasty compound. It caused a mutation right about... here," the Doctor pointed at another screen, this one representing Trip's DNA sequence. "I should think this enables the Commander to change his appearance to the extent you've already witnessed. It also makes his skin extremely sensitive to sunlight – the sun may literally burn him."

Archer listening to the words had a growing urge to burst into hysterical laughter. Trip was a vampire!

"The mutation can be reversed," Phlox continued, "but I would not advise it."

"Why not?" Archer sobered.

"The combination of the substances is also highly addictive. To deprive the Commander of them completely would cause a violent reaction and, quite possibly, death. I suspect it was your – no doubt well meant – attempt at taking Mr Tucker away from the planet, or rather the person who provided him with the substances, that provoked his attack. I don't think a reaction this strong will occur again but that will depend on our ability to provide the Commander with substitutes of the original addictive agent."

Archer sank into a chair.

"Is there anything you _can_ do?"

"Well, I can replicate something resembling the compound in his blood. But there is no telling if it will be enough to prevent the onset of withdrawal symptoms. It may only reduce their severity, so that the Commander will be able to function, more or less, normally."

"Wait," the Captain cut in, feeling a sparkle of hope. "What if you reversed that mutation? Wouldn't that cure Trip? We wouldn't have to put him on any substitute."

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid. The substances caused permanent alteration in his brain chemistry. The whole body is affected and while the mutation would no longer be an issue, the addiction would remain. I cannot speculate how the Comander will react to the substitute I can give him. It could be harmful in the absence of changes brought on by the mutation."

Archer felt his surge of hope dying quick and unheroic death. "'Permanent alteration'?"

"Untreatable," Phlox's statement had a horrible air of finality. "I regret having to say this, but to all intents and purposes, Mr Tucker is no longer Human."

"Does that mean he'll always be like this?" the Captain still couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"It's very probable. I will of course continue to look for a suitable treatment, an antidote, if you will, but for the time being Mr Tucker's state will remain as it is."

Archer watched the figure on the biobed, his expression troubled. He couldn't even begin to think how to inform Strafleet Headquarters of the fact that their best engineer had recently turned into Dracula.

He could stall, he _would_ stall, and say Trip was sick. In a sense, he was. Hell, if Starfleet heard he whole truth, they'd probably recall Trip back to Earth and put him in a heavily guarded hospital room so they could observe him like he was some circus freak.

And what about Tucker's family – how were they going to take it? True, Phlox had said Trip would live – more or less – normally but what if the addiction spirals out of control? Could he be a danger to other people, after all?

"Captain," Phlox spoke, his unnaturally bright blue eyes full of compassion, "I intend to do everything I can for the Commander. Now, I suggest you rest, Sir. There's no reason for you to stay here and I'm sure all shall look brighter in the morning. Do you want something to help you sleep?"

Archer nodded. He felt drained but knew he wouldn't be able to actually fall asleep.

A hypospray hissed against his neck and he sighed. "Thanks, Doc."

When he was leaving Sickbay, Phlox was already bent over a microscope, preparing something for Tucker. Something that would make Trip better and allow them to wake him up and not fear for their own lives.

xx xx xx

It took several attempts on Phlox's part and almost a week in Sickbay for Trip before the replicated substitute worked properly and kept the withdrawal symptoms at bay. The first time they occurred, Phlox had to sedate Trip – he was shaking, sweating and hissing with pain. His fangs were extended, eyes unseeing and he was trying to bite his own arm before Phlox intervened.

The Doctor was careful after that, preferring to keep his patient asleep rather than risking his health further.

Twice Phlox's cure seemed right but after three to four hours the shivers and hunger pangs would return. What the Doctor considered optimistic, though, not hesitating to share his observations with the Captain, was that Trip's more violent reactions were never directed towards other people. That bode well for the Commander's future existence on the ship.

When he was thinking more clearly, Tucker reluctantly and after no small amount of prodding from the Doctor, told him what exactly happened this time. His acute embarrassment, because he really felt that what had passed between him and Reed was way too intimate to be shared with anyone, was somewhat eased by Phlox's understanding and the knowledge he would not breach the patient-doctor confidentiality.

Having been given the new information, Phlox came up with the only logical solution: the neurotoxin must have been present in the alien's saliva while the other substance must have been in his blood. Which Trip had drunk.

Just to be sure Phlox took a sample of Trip's own saliva – based on what he had recently learned about vampires, it seemed reasonable to expect the toxin to be there as well. He was correct. If Commander Tucker set his mind on it, he could turn every human being on the ship into a blood-sucking monster. Phlox wasn't sure if it would work on T'Pol or himself, but it wasn't impossible. With relief he noticed, however, that the Commander fortunately displayed no such desire. What was more, when Trip was awake, he was withdrawn, never even asking for visitors, his usual sociability gone. And this was a little worrying.

Finally Phlox came up with a chemical that was sufficiently long-lasting, not addictive in itself and only needed to be taken once a day. Trip was released from Sickbay with a supply of easily soluble pills and strict orders to put one in a cup of water and drink every morning. It seemed to be a better option than hypospray, given the original method of entry.

By that time Tucker's mood had apparently improved. The Doctor reflected that perhaps it was due to several vitamin injections and protein cocktails he prepared for his patient. He noticed Commander's reluctance to eat - no doubt the side effect of his addiction - but a couple of protein concentrates and a threat of a drip permanently hooked up to his arm worked.

Trip for his part, took it all with enough calm to surprise even himself. He suspected Phlox added to his vitamin shots a mild sedative. He was grateful. He believed this was why he was able to deal with Reed's death and Jon's part in it without much difficulty. The intense feeling of loss faded into quiet resignation and then into a small regret he sometimes sighed over. And if he no longer laughed, so what?

He still had to talk to Jonathan, though. Let him know he didn't blame him and, well, apologise for trying to strangle his Capt'n. The whole situation couldn't have been easy for him and Trip certainly didn't make it any easier. And what if Jon had been right? that Reed really had every intention of killing, if not both of them, then at least Archer?

No, this couldn't be right, Mal wasn't like that.

Yeah, and you know that how? – Trip argued with himself – why did you even believe everything he said?

Still, he didn't really feel his trust was misplaced.

Tucker rubbed his face; everything was so much easier when the other vampire was near. Trip frowned: maybe that was the reason. Didn't they influence their victims' minds? He remembered seeing that movie once – vampires could make you... do things. Were the alien ones the same?

Then another question presented itself: what would've happened if Jon hadn't reacted the way he had? Would Reed bite him too? Trip definitely didn't like the idea but the thought of protecting Jon was quickly followed by a flare of possessiveness and proprietary feeling that if Reed was going to bite anybody, it should be him. He frowned at that.

Maybe Archer had been right after all.

He glanced at the clock, it wasn't too late. Jon's shift was over so he should be in his cabin. Tucker got up from his bunk. They had to talk; no point in putting it off.

The Captain had just finished recording his log when the door chimed.

"Come in."

The door slid aside to reveal Tucker standing almost at attention, his face serious.

"Capt'n," he said warily as he stepped inside.

"Commander." Archer was unsure what to expect. "Take a seat," he indicated a chair.

Trip sat down, fidgeted a little, sighed and finally spoke,

"I'm sorry, Jon. You know, for what happened on the planet. I wasn't exactly in my right mind. But Phlox says it's better now," he added with a weak smile which Archer returned.

"Believe me, Trip, I'd be the last to blame you for anything that happened," he got up and started pacing. "Hell, I could've probably handled it all differently."

"No, you couldn't," Trip was quick to offer reassurance. It wouldn't do them any good if Jon started second-guessing himself every time they faced some danger. "You had no choice."

He was about to say 'I would have done the same' but realised he couldn't. Not yet. "You did what you thought was best," he said instead, this time fully meaning it.

"Thanks," Archer smiled, relieved that Trip too saw it like that. His friend was getting back to being himself again, instead of that strange... something.

"So, how are you feeling now?" The Captain didn't mention that what kept him from visiting Trip in Sickbay was as much the Doctor's orders – extending to everyone on board anyway – as his own reluctance to accidentally witness Trip change again.

"I'm good. Yesterday Phlox said I can go back on duty. I just have to take those pills and report to him once a week," Trip made a face. He remembered Doctor explaining the regular check-ups, at least at the beginning, were necessary to make sure he stayed healthy. The other vampire's blood apparently contained all that Trip's altered physiology needed. Without it, his body was able to absorb only third of the nutrients from normal food that it used to. That's why the pills also included a daily dose of vitamins, minerals etc.

He sighed, "I'm OK. Really."

"In that case, tomorrow you can start your normal shift. Join me and T'Pol for breakfast?"

"Sure thing," Trip grinned, glad things returned to some semblance of normality.

"Great," Archer clapped Tucker on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back, Trip."

And it was good to be back, Tucker reflected. The familiar routine of the ship's life was comforting. From time to time he and Jon met for a beer or to watch a game of waterpolo and the Capt'n even seemed to stop keeping an eye on him. Jon's mother-henning tendencies were touching, but they could also be damn annoying. Sometimes Trip wondered, though, if it was really him or maybe the crew that Archer wanted to protect. And then he realised that in the end it didn't matter a great deal.

Trip couldn't blame his friend. It was a small miracle that Jon was able to trust him so soon after... well, after. He wasn't sure if he himself could do that if their roles had been reversed. The rest of the crew except for the senior staff didn't really know what had happened to him; they only knew he'd been ill. Trip thought it was for the best anyway. Some people, if not the majority, would probably start avoiding him – out of mistrust or fear – if they knew he was a vampire. The fact that he wasn't going to bite any of them didn't necessarily have to convince them. And Trip couldn't help but be grateful to the Capt'n that he kept the embarrassing truth about his Chief Engineer away from the crew and Starfleet Command alike.

Tucker knew he had to be careful, though. Any sort of open wound was a danger. It was scary how easily he could lose his self-control. Once he accidentally scratched the back of his hand against a sharp edge inside a panel he was repairing. The scratch was pretty deep – blood welled and Trip reflexively licked it, not wanting to make a mess. Instantly, his face changed and the fangs reappeared. His body becoming alive, thrilling to the prospect of a hunting.

Trip was only glad he managed to lock himself in his office, which was literally two steps away as the whole incident took place in Engineering, before anyone noticed. He watched fascinated as the wound on his hand disappeared – ten seconds and there was absolutely no indication that it had ever been there.

Making his fangs retract took quite a bit longer, though. The tang of blood on his tongue was terribly distracting but finally he got himself under control. Taking deep steady breaths, Trip rested his forehead on the top of his desk. Fortunately the hunger pangs did not return, Trip suspected Phlox's pills were doing their job after all.

He felt something strange, though. It was the same feeling he had lying in Sickbay when the craving for blood became too much. Before Phlox sedated him, just at the edge of his consciousness he could hear something. He wasn't sure what; the sound teasing and elusive. It wasn't unpleasant, but disconcerting. The calm and a vague sense of familiarity it brought were too fleeting to really register.

Commander Tucker shook his head, resisiting the tug of half forgotten dreams. He had work to finish.


	6. Chapter 6

Silik stood on the bridge of his ship and pondered the words he'd just heard. His contact from the future told him about a changed Human – Chief Engineer of the Enterprise. It would be highly beneficial if the Suliban could examine the Human closer and adopt the changes.

He frowned; why did everything useful nearly always require this species' participation? It was very annoying.

They should be careful, however. Humans were once able to detect cell ships despite the fact that they were cloaked. Still, if the mission was successful the Suliban could further enhance their abilities.

It was up to him to make a decision and he decided it was worth to try.

xx xx xx

Trip Tucker could not sleep. He lay in his bunk and stared at the ceiling, wondering if vampires ever had insomnia. Did they even need sleep? He knew he did so he figured it was normal after all. It wasn't like he met many people he could ask, anyway.

Maybe he wasn't even a real vampire – he didn't drink blood and didn't turn into a bat either. He snorted, amused; if he could do that he'd have to keep away from Phlox to make sure he didn't end up sharing a cage with that monstrosity the Doctor owned.

About the blood, though... Some mornings Trip woke up with a taste of it still on his tongue. Of course, it was always nothing more than a lingering memory of his dreams, but in those moments he missed Reed the most. Malcolm would taste so good. To be able to feed on him once again and be fed on in turn...

At his point Trip usually heaved a resigned sigh, trudged to the bathroom to take his pills and did his best to forget his dreams. And usually it worked too.

Tucker got up from the bed and stood by the window, looking at the stars streaking by. It had been nearly four months since he saw Malcolm for the last time. He wondered what the other vampire was up to now - something was telling him that Reed was still very much alive.

It first occurred to him a few weeks ago, when he realised that his easy acceptance of that death didn't stem from his newly acquired zen outlook or sedatives but from odd, unconscious certainty that Malcolm was actually all right. It took him some time but Trip finally understood what the whispers he sometimes heard were. It was like Malcolm and he were connected somehow. It was nothing like telepathy and it was pretty weak, but it bound them together strongly enough, Trip suspected, for either of them to know when the other one really met his end. It was reassuring in a way.

Abruptly he turned away from the window. He was sure he saw something move. A blurred shape that looked like—

Before Trip even had a chance to complete the tought a heavy weight fell on his back; the impact sending him and his attacker on to the floor. Trip reacted purely on instinct, twisting and jabbing his elbow into the figure behind him. There was an audible snap but Trip was already on his feet facing another... Suliban, he realised. He snarled and pounced, quicker than light. The Suliban fired his phase pistol but it did nothing to slow Tucker down and in a flash his fist crushed the alien's larynx.

Two down, Trip spared a brief thought on how long it would take a security team to get to his quarters. Someone must have detected an unauthorised phaser blast.

The third Suliban didn't wait for Tucker's attack and fired as soon as Trip looked his way. It was obvious to him their mission was a failure but he made sure the Human paid for the deaths of two of his people. He had set his phase pistol to kill.

xx xx xx

Tucker didn't feel all that good. There was a dull pain in his chest and an itching under his skin that was slowly driving him crazy. And he had a headache from Hell.

He opened his eyes to the harsh lights and immediately closed them again. It was too bright; it hurt.

"Commander," he heard Phlox's voice, "are you in any pain?"

"Lights," Trip muttered through clenched teeth. "Turn them off." He sighed as the Doctor lowered the illumination to a more acceptable level.

"And my head's killing me," he admitted after a pause.

"Ah, I can help with that too."

A hypospray hissed and Trip relaxed further. The pain in his chest receded as well but that unfortunately made the itching sensation more pronounced. He twitched restlessly and scratched his arm. Then remembered why he landed himself in Sickbay in the first place.

"Are the Suliban gone?"

"Yes, the security team was able to capture one of them. The other two were found dead." Phlox glanced at his patient. Trip only nodded distractedly.

"All three of them were picked up by Silik's ship," Phlox continued. "He, of course, denied any knowledge of the reason for the attack and promised a suitable punishment would be meted out."

"Of course." They both knew how likely that was.

Trip squinted – the Sickbay was still a little too bright. "Doc, could you lower the lights a bit?"

Phlox raised his eyebrow at that – the lights were already at forty percent - but complied with the request.

Trip's hands twitched again. He was beginning to recognise the feeling – it made him want to crawl out of his skin and meant only one thing.

His fangs were growing again and it hurt now too; this couldn't be good. Trip shivered. He was marginally aware of the Doctor bustling nearby, preparing hyposprays, but the need in him was stronger with every second. He gripped the sheets and hissed as cold metal of another hypospray touched his neck.

The injection brought a partial relief. The edge of desperation was gone but the hunger remained – it was merely reduced to be more tolerable.

Trip took a deep breath. "What's happening, Doc?"

Phlox tapped a monitor over the biobed. "I was afraid something like that may occur. You have developed a tolerance for the substitute I replicated. I hoped that we would have more time before it happens."

"Can't you just give me a higher dose of..." Tucker waved his hand in a vague gesture, "...whatever I'm taking?"

"I already have. We'll see how long it holds." Phlox paused, frowning. "Your being shot must have additionally quickened the process. Did you know the Suliban's weapon was set to kill?"

Trip shrugged lightly but didn't reply.

"Also, the energy and resources your body expended on regenerating the damaged tissue caused a serious imbalance. To put it simply, you are on the brink of total exhaustion."

Phlox moved to the comm unit, no doubt in order to appraise the Captain of the situation.

Trip stared gloomily into space. He could feel the fatigue creeping up on him and as he was falling asleep he thought that everything really would be better and easier if Reed were here.

The next time he woke up every muscle in his body hurt.

"Why do I feel like a shuttlepod landed on me?"

"You had a seizure." Phlox adjusted the drip's needle in Tucker's arm. "Fortunately, the only effect is a few strained muscles."

"And what's that for?" Trip scowled at the plastic bag releasing clear liquid into his veins. He was getting sick of this place.

"You were dehydrated and your glucose level was dangerously low."

"Aren't you overreacting a bit, Doc? I mean, it's been only, what, a couple of hours?"

"Commander," Phlox was so clearly worried that Trip really started paying attention. "You've been here for the past six days."

Trip goggled at the Doctor as if he just announced he and T'Pol were getting married. SIX DAYS? He couldn't remember any of it.

"Was I out again?"

"Mostly."

The answer was evasive but Trip didn't press. He looked at his hands and only now noticed faint bruises on the outside of his wrists. He must have been strapped to the biobed. And very recently too. Oh, God.

"I was completely out of my head." Trip didn't even bother to phrase it like a question.

"It wasn't your fault." Phlox smiled reassuringly.

Tucker knew better. Of course it was his fault. He should've had better control over himself even if it was damn near impossible. He wondered if it would always be like this.

Some time later Jon came. He smiled weakly, patted Trip's hand and went to talk with Phlox.

"I'm afraid we have very few options left, Captain."

"How few exactly?" Archer had a feeling he wouldn't like this...

"For the time being, only one." ...and he was right.

"And that is?"

"Well," the Doctor looked a bit uncomfortable, "the best course of action would be to return to the planet where it all had started and find the person, the 'vampire', who changed Mr Tucker."

Whatever Jon expected, it wasn't this.

"And then what?" he asked, not looking forward to the answer.

"Captain, the substitute of the original addictive compound is no longer effective. The Commander would require higher and higher doses in order to function normally. Besides, the chemical chaos his body is currently experiencing is also directly related to the problem of his addiction."

Archer was putting two and two together. "So, you're saying he needs... that guy's blood?"

"Yes. And the sooner the better."

Something occurred to Jon just then and it wasn't a pleasant thought. "But I killed him when—"

"Sir," Phlox interrupted, "I very much doubt he's dead. You saw the effect the Suliban's weapon had on Commander Tucker. Or rather lack of it."

Jon glanced at Trip who was staring at the ceiling again, pursing his lips. He looked normal but his canine teeth were still longer than those of a Human. He apparently couldn't or wouldn't retract them and this worried him.

"There really is no alternative, is there?" Archer pinched the bridge of his nose.

Phlox only shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do much more than keep monitoring the Commander and step in when it becomes necessary."

"All right." The Captain reached a decision. "We've actually zigzagged a bit, so we're not that far. It'll take us about a week at warp 4 to reach the planet. In the meantime do what you can."

xx xx xx

It was a week none of them wanted to repeat.

Tucker practically moved into Sickbay. The hunger pangs were becoming more frequent and more painful. The, now constant, ache for Reed was getting stronger too. Since the substitute Phlox made wasn't as effective as it used to be, the intervals between injections were becoming shorter. Phlox administered them personally, on Trip's own insistence. Tucker didn't trust himself; he knew he would take the full hypospray in the hope that it would appease his hunger, not caring it contained at least twelve doses. Injecting them all at once was an extremely bad idea and would do more harm than good so Phlox took the hypospray with him everywhere he went and locked the supplies.

Trip distracted himself with work and a few of his engineering projects. For a while it worked but there was only so much he could do on paper and then it was getting more and more difficult to concentrate.

It was a relief when they finally reached their destination. By that time, there wasn't a day when the crew, especially the Engineering department, didn't ask about Commander Tucker's health. Trip appreciated that but wanted to be left alone. He was exhausted from suppressing his ever-present want and from inability to sleep through it all.

Phlox's worry about the fact that his attempts at treating the Commander still didn't make any significant difference reached a whole new level.

And Archer stubbornly refused to lose his hope that Trip would be all right, despite all the disheartening evidence to the contrary. But it was hard.

When they finally took a shuttlepod down to the planet's surface, it was only the three of them. Jon in the pilot's seat, Phlox keeping an eye on Trip, and Tucker, who sat in a corner with his eyes closed, tense and trying to focus on something – anything - other than the fact there was an excellent source of food right there, in the shuttlepod.

The instincts of a hunter, once awoken, were hard to repress and it got to the point where Trip desperately wanted to bury his fangs in any flesh, to taste real blood.

He didn't know how long he could fight it and so, as soon as they landed, Trip was out of the shuttlepod faster than anyone could blink. Archer and Phlox scrambled after him, the Captain not expecting anything good had a phase pistol at the ready.

Outside Trip stopped and inhaling cold night air, closed his eyes. He snapped them open when he heard a familiar voice grousing: "Finally. Took you bloody long."

Malcolm.

He stood there, in all his vampiric glory and Jon, who now saw him too, had to stifle the urge to point the pistol straight at him.

Tucker growled and in a heartbeat he and Reed were clinging to each other. Their fangs finding the other's neck and biting, both of them desperate and hungry.

For Reed, those past few months weren't all that easy either. He was moody, irritable and he wanted... something. He had a pretty good idea what that something might be. It all reminded him of a time when he wasn't a vampire yet and tried to quit smoking. He eventually managed to do it then but had no desire to repeat the experience. And after that he never allowed himself to get too used to something that took so much effort to shake off.

It worked until now. He cursed himself and his taste in exotic food.

Oh, well.

Now the most important thing was that the Human came back. Malcolm could feel him getting closer thanks to the fragile connection they shared. He was rather surprised it had even formed in the first place. He didn't think it would be possible with another species.

Reed smirked internally when he felt the sweet sting of being bitten and fed on. It looked like Charles needed him quite a bit as well. Good. With his own mouth attached to Tucker's neck, sucking greedily, Reed thought this could be the beginning of a... well, certainly interesting friendship.

Archer watching the two, was caught between horror and embarrassment. He didn't think Trip actually wanted him and Phlox to see this particular greeting in all its intimate gory detail. The way Reed and Tucker were wrapped around each other, drinking from each other and occasionally making quiet pleased sounds – it was almost obscene.

He averted his eyes, feeling slightly nauseated. By his side, the Doctor didn't appear to be that put out and was hurriedly making notes on his PADD.

Archer sighed. The one question that surely was about to give him a headache was: what now?


	7. Chapter 7

Reed felt pleasantly satisfied, the blood in his stomach warming and making him a little sleepy. It was an excellent meal. Perhaps he could rest a little now, sit here for a bit; the tree supporting his back nice and comfortable. He blinked lazily, but as his eyes refocussed, the drowsiness vanished in an instant.

The two people that Charles arrived with were still here. Watching them.

The one with the ridges on his face was scribbling on some sort of notepad while glancing at them every few seconds. The feeling of being studied like a bug under a magnifying glass was decidedly unnerving.

The other one, that could be Human too, seemed to be trying very hard to actually avoid even looking in their direction. And failing.

Wait, Reed narrowed his eyes. Wasn't that the bastard who had shot him once? _That_ had bloody hurt. Would he do it again? Reed's muscles tensed and he growled softly. The Human looked sharply at him. Was he going to draw his gun?

At that moment Reed felt Charles stir by his side.

"Now, that's what I call a feast," he sighed into Reed's neck.

It was almost funny how Tucker burrowed into Reed's side after their every feeding. Malcolm couldn't restrain an amused chuckle and from the corner of his eye he noticed that the Human watching them, relaxed a little. Hmm, maybe shooting wasn't on tonight's agenda after all.

"Who are they?" Malcolm asked quietly.

Trip turned his head and went beet red with embarrassment. He pushed himself up and surreptitiously brushed a hand over his face, making sure he was back to normal. He straightened his uniform, wondering what to say.

"Capt'n, uh," he cleared his throat, "you met Malcolm Reed before." Trip winced at his clumsy attempt at introductions but also at the memeory of that last meeting.

"I believe so." Archer didn't lose his suspicious look and for a moment he and Reed, who also stood up, eyed each other warily. Finally the Captain decided to go with the protocol. Never too late for that, as T'Pol once told him.

"I'm Jonathan Archer, Captain of the Earth's starship Enterprise. And this is Phlox, our physician from Denobula."

"Reed," Malcolm kept it simple and inclined his head in greeting.

Jon decided to state the obvious now and have it out of the way. "So you're..." he tried but boy, was that one awkward conversation, "...er, a vampire."

"Yes." Archer thought Reed was faintly amused. "Charles told me we're not something your species encounter on a regular basis."

"That's certainly one way to put it.

"Listen," the Captain hesitated, "I appreciate what you did for my crewman just now." He glanced at Tucker who sure looked better than he had in weeks, if not months. "But it doesn't change the fact that it was you who put him in danger in the first place." He noticed that – if he read the expression correctly – Reed was perhaps vaguely ashamed. Good.

"Well, a man has to eat," Reed muttered.

"Capt'n, don't," Tucker said at the same time but Archer didn't want to have _this_ discussion with him now.

"Get in the shuttlepod, Trip," he sighed instead.

"What, now?" Trip raised his eyebrows. Well, that was a little abrupt.

Archer was about, albeit not particularly willingly, to make it an order when Phlox chose this moment to speak.

"Excuse me, Captain. May I have a word with you?"

Jon was just a little bit reluctant to let Trip out of his sight but nodded. They walked a couple of metres away from where Reed and Tucker stood, the Captain throwing an apologetic glance over his shoulder.

"Damn," Trip sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Now I'm screwed."

"Hm?" Reed stood beside him, observing the Captain and the Doctor.

"Well, you heard. We'll be leaving in a minute and I don't want to." There was just a hint of whine in Trip's voice.

"You're joking, right?" Reed looked at him puzzled. "You've got this starship, you can fly from one galaxy to another, you can see and learn so many things and you want to stay here?"

"No. Yeah. Well, maybe. Or you could come with us?" At Reed's sceptical stare he amended hopefully, "or something.

"'Cause I mean, I do love my job and Enterprise and all but—" Christ, that was embarrassing, "—I haven't felt that good in months." Trip unconsciously licked his lips as if trying to recapture the taste of Reed's blood.

"Oh," a smug smile was slowly growing on Malcolm's face.

"Yeah," Trip sat down on the ground, his eyes on the figures of Phlox and Archer. The Doctor was pointing to something on his PADD while Jon stood with his hand pressed to his forehead. This couldn't be good.

"You know why we actually came back here?" Tucker didn't wait for an answer. "Because I was going crazy. Literally. Something in your blood," he looked at Reed, "made me addicted to it. Phlox, the Doctor, said I could die if they tried to wean me off it so he replicated a substitute. In the end it too wasn't enough."

Reed's smile faded as he felt an unaccustomed pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry," he paused. "It is my fault, isn't it?"

Tucker shrugged and averted his gaze. "It happened, can't be undone. And I don't mind." As he said that, he realised it was absolutely true. Maybe once he was pissed off with Malcolm for making him... this, for causing the whole mess, but now he didn't really mind.

"You know," Reed was speaking again, "I can only say that when I first fed on you, I didn't think you'd recover."

Trip turned to face him. So Malcolm meant to kill him then? Now he looked sheepish about it, though. Trip frowned.

"I did get a bit carried away," Malcolm grimaced. He was definitely not proud of himself. "I'm glad you made it." His expression was solemn.

"Yeah, I'm glad too," Trip smiled. "Hey, you know I got stronger after you bit me?" he jokingly flexed his biceps. "Gotta say it surprised the hell out of me but I ain't complaining."

xx xx xx

Meanwhile Phlox, face serious, was telling the Captain that the best course of action was to take Reed with them.

"No no no," Archer was shaking his head so vigorously that the Doctor was afraid he would have to administer a painkiller later. "This is absolutely out of the question. We can't." He waved his hand for further emphasis. "Starfleet would not agree and the Vulcan High Command would behead me; the blood-thirsty vegetarians," he mumbled darkly.

Phlox raised his eyebrows but didn't comment, saying instead "I understand your reluctance, Captain, but I would not suggest that if I thought another solution was available."

"But now that Trip got his... fix, he'll be OK, right? I mean, you could keep giving him the substitute and it would be all right."

"I cannot say for how long, though. What if he's injured again? Besides," Phlox glanced at the Commander, "I doubt Mr Tucker will be very receptive to the idea of leaving Mr Reed behind, now that he tasted the real thing, so to speak."

Disconcertingly, it could be true. Following the Doctor's line of sight, the Captain saw Trip leaning close to the alien and actually laughing. Jon couldn't remember when was the last time he heard his friend laugh like that. Still...

"Enterprise is no place for civilians and especially not for Reed's kind. I cannot expose my crew to the danger of him being on board." The very thought of it made him shudder.

"Perhaps," Phlox conceded. "But he's what Mr Tucker needs. At least for now."

"You do realise that he regards us as food, right?" Archer was observing Trip who, for his tastes, was being far too chummy with Reed.

"So does Commander Tucker, I suppose," said Phlox.

Jon looked completely aghast at that.

"I know Trip," he finally sputtered. "He wouldn't do anything even if it was true. Which I'm sure it isn't."

"Are you certain?" the Doctor tapped his chin thoughtfully. "People are capable of many things to feed their addiction. And you cannot forget Mr Tucker is addicted to a substance that is an equivalent of a very potent drug." He paused for a moment. "In fact, we could probably treat Mr Reed as an addition to the assortment of various animal species I keep in Sickbay. He does provide a sort of cure for the Commander, after all."

The Captain looked at the man in question again and was faced, fortunately from a safe distance, with a sight of a decidedly vampire Tucker easing his fangs into Reed's wrist.

A midnight snack, Jon thought and felt a bubble of rather hysterical laughter rising in his throat. He turned away and pressed his forehead to the cold hull of the shuttlepod.

"Damn it to all hell," he muttered in frustration. Then sighed and resolutely addressed the Doctor. "Better not tell Reed you think he would nicely fit among your Sickbay menagerie."

"Well, for one I doubt I'd find a cage that's big enough," Phlox said with some humour.

"Yeah, that's what's bothering me too." Archer rubbed his forehead and resisted the urge to sigh again. "Come on, Doc, let's get this over with."

They walked back to the pair. The Captain somewhat relieved that Trip was looking Human again.

Reed tensed at their approach, eyeing both the Captain and the Denobulan at his side, with distrust.

Archer put his hands up in a gesture intended to reassure the other man that they meant no harm, although the less civilised part of him wanted to beat Reed on the spot.

"Mr Reed, I have a proposition for you," the Captain paused, glancing at Trip. "I'd like you to come with us to Enterprise."

"I beg your pardon?" Malcolm was certain he misheard that.

"It seems that you are vital to well-being, if not survival, of Commander Tucker," the Doctor joined Archer's speech. "If I had the opportunity to study your physiology and your... unique condition, I could eventually come up with some cure for him. At least that's my hope."

"You really mean it?" The surprise on Trip's face morphed into a smile.

Reed however was less than eager. "I won't be a guinea pig you can test your theories on." And he privately thought Charles didn't need any cure.

And damn if it all didn't sound like a trite abducted-by-the-UFO tale; 'they took me to their ship and probed me and performed tests on me'. In other circumstances he might have even found it funny.

"Mr Reed," Phlox was speaking again, "I assure you this is not my intention. The tests will involve taking a sample of your blood, and some scans, and will be done with no pain at all. Please, remember that I am a doctor and harming a patient goes against my ethics."

Reed thought about it, his conscience again reminding him oh-so-helpfully that it was all his fault. He told it to shut up.

"How long is this going to take?" he finally asked.

The Doctor sighed, "I really cannot say. A week, maybe two. Maybe even longer," he added remembering his previous, not quite fruitful, efforts.

"And you are going to keep me locked the whole time, aren't you, Captain?" Dark blue eyes looked at Archer, Reed almost challenging him to deny.

The Captain gritted his teeth, hearing the slightly mocking tone in which his rank was spoken. Now, though, that he realised Reed won't be a permanent fixture on Enterprise, he was inclined to be more accomodating.

"Not necessarily," he spoke, pleased he sounded so calm. "You could move around the ship, providing you had a guard."

Reed bristled.

"Which could be Commander Tucker's job," Archer finished. What he didn't say was that Trip in all likelihood was the only person who could do it. His speed and strength probably a match for Reed's own. Plus this way there was no danger of Reed making another vampire of somebody else.

"Yeah, Mal," Trip grinned, glad and relieved that he and Reed didn't have to go their separate ways just yet. "Think you can suffer first through Doctor's tests and then having a nanny?"

"Don't call me Mal," Reed grumbled but flicked an amused glance at Tucker.

The question was, did he trust these people enough to let himself get practically trapped within their territory? Were they lying to him or telling the truth?

Would Charles lie to him?

Malcolm didn't think so and considered the offer again. It actually wasn't such a bad deal. He would be able to take a look at all the stuff that so far remained strictly in the realms of science-fiction for him. Perhaps he could somehow talk Charles into showing him the ship's engine. Or maybe even the Armoury.

"All right," he said, his expression guarded. "I agree."


	8. Chapter 8

Lieutenant Horace Hart, who became the Chief Security Officer after Hayes's death, was not happy with the new guest. The man might be fairly short and slim but there was something unsettling in his demeanour.

On the plus side, he didn't carry any weapons but Hart still disliked the Captain's assurances that Commander Tucker would be perfectly all right dealing with their guest on his own.

"I will need to talk to you, though, Lieutenant," the Captain spoke when they were leaving the launch bay. "Please, come to my ready room in thirty minutes."

"Mr Reed," Archer next turned to the alien, "I would ask you to keep what you'll see on this ship to yourself."

Reed nodded. He could understand how important it would be for him not to spread the word about this kind of technology. The fact that nobody would believe him seemed to be just a minor point.

After that Reed and Trip were monopolised by the Doctor who took them to Sickbay. Tucker was bundled into the imaging chamber to have every part of him scanned, catalogued and compared to his previous records.

Reed merely sat on a biobed and watched with a greedy fascination the alien technology in the form of various pieces of medical equipment, from monitors to the hyposprays and PADDs. He was so absorbed that he didn't even appear to notice when he had his blood sample taken.

When Phlox finally released them from his clutches, the Commander was told to stay off duty for some time and all but ordered to get some sleep.

By mutual agreement Reed was assigned to Tucker's quarters so when Trip found he had suddenly acquired new bunk beds, it wasn't such a surprise as it might have been otherwise.

Reed inspected the cabin curiously. Tiny space filled with the most essential things: the beds, desk and a closet; some sort of helmet on top of it, the purpose of which he couldn't begin to guess. There was also a window and behind it an endless expanse of stars.

"I've never thought I would see Rahte like this," Reed murmured awed by the sight of his homeworld.

"Yeah, pretty impressive, isn't it?" Trip stood beside him.

After a while he asked, changing the subject, "You wanna take the top bunk?" He thought that this way he would be more likely to wake up if Malcolm got an idea to wander around the ship at night. Not that he didn't trust him but the Capt'n kind of ordered him to keep an eye on Mal.

"Sure, why not," Reed stretched.

"OK. You can use the bathroom and I'll go to quartermaster for a change of clothing for you."

"Right. Thanks," Reed said a little awkwardly, thinking that for people who basically had no trust and no love for him, these Humans were willing to pamper him quite a bit.

When Trip came back Reed lay in the bunk, facing the window.

"Thanks," Malcolm said again as he noticed Trip putting what he brought on a chair.

"No problem."

Trip went to the bathroom, shucked off his uniform and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked healthier, he thought with surprise.

He brushed his teeth, turned off the light and went to bed, hoping for at least one night of decent sleep.

xx xx xx

The Captain, carefully choosing his words, informed his Chief Security Officer about the situation. He didn't go into too many details as to the reason why Malcolm Reed came on board but he did appraise Lieutenant Hart fully of Reed's capabilities and possible trouble.

To his credit Hart managed to look only mildly surprised at hearing the word 'vampire', his shock hidden behind a mask of professionalism.

"Are you sure, Sir, it is safe for Commander Tucker to stay with that alien? Maybe I should assign a security detail to him?"

"No, no," the Captain's smile was somewhat strained. He didn't mention that as far as Reed and Tucker were concerned, the worst had already happened. "He will be all right. I do want you, though, to discreetly watch Reed. There's no need to post a guard but check on him every now and then."

"Aye, Sir."

xx xx xx

When Trip woke up, it was nearly seven. He yawned contentedly and just lay relaxed, warm and feeling... well, great. If maybe hungry. His stomach rumbled and Trip smiled thinking of Malcolm.

He got up and peered over the edge of the top bunk. Malcolm was dead to the world, sound asleep, his face half buried in the pillow, the side of his neck exposed.

Trip licked his lips, staring hungrily at the veins under the pale skin. His fangs were already growing and all but aching for that delicious taste.

Reed's eyes suddenly snapped open and he regarded the vampire in front of him warily.

"Malcolm," Trip's voice was low and rough. "Can I...?"

Reed nodded and shifted in his bed. Trip kneeled beside him, over him, and brought his mouth over that tempting throat.

Reed made a small sound as he was bitten and arched his back just a little. He found it was quite pleasurable. He liked it. When Charles fed on him, it was nothing like that very first time, when he became a vampire himself. That had been painful. And humiliating because he had failed in his duties. To fall for such an old trick...

Now this was nice. This was very, very nice. But not healthy at all and too much of a good thing... He slipped his hand into Charles's hair and tugged the blond head away from his neck.

"Careful now," he warned. "Don't drink me dry."

Trip protested faintly but obeyed.

"Sorry," he finally mumbled and blushed, the amount of blood in him making it even easier. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He carefully licked the two puncture wounds clean. They healed almost immediately.

"No." Reed squirmed a bit, Charles's tongue tickled. "You'll soon learn how to control the hunger, anyway."

"I hope so." Trip took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His face smoothed out, the fangs retracted and he stretched out beside Reed on the narrow bed.

"This is not normal," Malcolm voiced his earlier thoughts.

"What is not normal?" Trip murmured.

"Two vampires don't feed off each other."

"Why not?" Trip became curious.

"I guess because we need the blood of a living being. Which a vampire is not."

"Speak for yourself," he poked Malcolm in the ribs. "I'm still alive."

Reed threw him a half-amused glance. "It would certainly seem so. It's probably because of that alien physiology of yours."

Trip snorted but Reed was frowning, thinking about what he had learnt during his time in the Watcher's Council. He remembered that when a vampire fed on another vampire it could create... problems. It could bind them together, make them too dependent on each other.

Maybe it wouldn't happen with him and Tucker. They belonged to different worlds, different species. Malcolm decided to be cautiously optimistic. "I suppose it also means that I can get all the blood I need, from you."

Besides, it wasn't as if he could drink from anyone else now. He doubted Archer would let him get away with feeding on the Enterprise crew.

Trip sat up a little, leaning on his elbow.

"Do you want to? I mean, now?" he asked expectantly.

"Not yet," Reed shook his head.

After a moment he spoke again, "That strange doctor wanted to see you today, if I remember correctly."

"Strange?"

Malcolm shrugged. Trip laughed and flopped back on the bunk. "He's not strange, he's Denobulan. And anyhow, he wanted to see you too."

Reed despite surviving the previous day without any painful Sickbay experiences, was still not entirely comfortable with going there.

"Hmpf." He turned to lie on his side. "Later."

xx xx xx

Reed and Tucker spent the day walking around the ship. Trip was unable to stay away from Engineering any longer, especially after that week in Sickbay prior to their visit on the planet and so Reed found himself staring at the Earth's first warp engine while the Chief Engineer beamed alternately at his staff, Malcolm and the machine.

"A beauty, isn't she?" Trip said at last, pride evident in his voice.

"Hi, Boss." Lieutenant Hess approached them, glancing at Reed with curiosity.

"Hess," Trip's grin got even wider. "How's everything goin'? Any problems?"

"Nah, all in perfect working order, Sir. Here's the report."

"Great, thanks." Trip grabbed the PADD and skimmed through the contents quickly.

Reed wandered off to look at the rest of the Engineering and Hess took the opportunity to ask.

"If you don't mind me, Sir, who's that?"

"Huh?" Trip looked up from the report. "Oh, that's just Malcolm. You know we're orbiting that planet? So, the Capt'n invited him on board."

Sort of.

"But isn't that a pre-warp society?" Hess frowned.

"Yeah. But he... I owe him. You remember I was lying in Sickbay just a couple of days ago?"—The woman nodded.—"So, he's kinda the reason I don't have to stay there anymore."

"I don't understand. I know you were sick but..." she trailed off.

Trip figured out it would be best to explain the situation once and for all, as truthfully as he could.

"When we first went there I got poisoned with some neurotoxin. And Phlox thinks Malcolm can help with the antidote."

"Really?" Hess's eyes widened. "But you're all right now, Sir?" her concern was clear.

"Yeah, now I am," Trip smiled reassuringly.

Hess's eyes, filled with new-found respect, travelled over to Reed, who was currently looking at one of the monitors. She studied the figure intently. There was something odd about the man. She couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was but—

Suddenly Reed raised his head and caught the Lieutenant staring. He arched one eyebrow at her and a corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a smirk.

Hess wanted to look away, lest the guy got the wrong idea, but she found she couldn't. For a few moments she stood there as if paralysed, completely unable to move and the only thing she could see was a pair of cold grey eyes.

Then Reed lowered his head to look at the monitor again and the feeling passed. Hess shook her head, trying to get rid of a vague uneasiness she now couldn't find a reason for.

"Well, I'll be off then. Good day, Boss," she mumbled and walked off.

"Mhm," Trip answered distractedly, his nose buried in the PADD.

His attention was brought back to the surroundings when he heard Reed beside him ask, "Think you could show me how exactly the engine works?"

Trip noticed Malcolm looked a bit guilty, but a moment later he couldn't be certain.

"Sure thing," he answered the question grinning.

"So, the Armoury next?" Malcolm didn't bother to mask the hopeful look on his face.

"Uh," Trip's grin faltered. "I'd have to run it by Capt'n first but I don't think he'll be too keen on that. Sorry, Malcolm."

"Oh. I guess I can understand. Pity though." Malcolm thought wistfully about all the wonderful futuristic weapons he wouldn't be able to see.

"Sickbay to Commander Tucker," Phlox's voice came through the comm speaker.

"Tucker here. What's up, Doc?"

"I just wanted you to know, Commander, that I am currently not busy and now would be a perfect time for you to visit Sickbay," the Doctor sounded positively cheerful. "And please, bring Mr Reed with you, hm? Phlox out."

Trip threw a resigned look at the man beside him. "Guess we better go, then." He tucked Hess's report in his pocket and they left the Engineering.

They were walking towards the turbolift when suddenly Trip was assaulted by such a powerful wave of hunger he could barely stay on his feet. It was as if he hadn't been eating for a month. He didn't remember a pain so severe as this even when he was in Sickbay, strapped to a biobed. Of course, he didn't really remember how that was either, mostly thanks to Phlox's sedatives.

He groaned weakly, clutching his stomach and leaned against a wall for support.

Reed knew immediately what was wrong, he expected it sooner or later. This wasn't going to be pretty. The corridor was empty but Malcolm didn't expect it to stay that way for much longer and he doubted Trip would want to give a show to any eventual passerby.

"Is there some place we can go?" he asked, watching Trip's face changing.

Tucker looked around, eyes clouded with misery, but forced himself to think.

"There's a storage room just a couple of steps away."

An agonised hiss escaped from between Trip's fangs as Malcolm dragged him in its direction.

The door had barely shut behind them and Tucker was already biting and sucking and, oh good God, he needed this so much. It was so good... So very good...

He came back to himself a few minutes later. With a heartfelt sigh he licked the last smudge of blood from Reed's neck and rested his head on the other's shoulder.

"All right now?" Reed asked, trying to take a look at Trip's face.

"Yeah," Trip said into the fabric of Malcolm's shirt. "Sorry. It's just... it was horrible."

"Not your fault. Such sudden hunger pangs should pass eventually and they'll be less painful too." Malcolm rubbed Trip's back. "Think we can go?"

Trip sucked in a breath and smiled, if a bit shakily. "Yeah, let's."

xx xx xx

When they reached Sickbay, there was no sign of Phlox. There was, however, Sub-commander T'Pol.

"How do you feel, Commander?" she addressed Tucker as soon as he stepped through the door.

"Never been better," he grinned, convincingly, he hoped.

"Is that Mr Tucker?" Phlox's voice floated from the adjacent room.

"Yep, Doc."

"Excellent. I'll be with you momentarily."

Trip hopped on a biobed, feeling the Vulcan's eyes on him the whole time. T'Pol's gaze was impassive and calculating as she tried to discern if the Commander was telling the truth. Finally, seemingly satisfied with her findings, she took a PADD with the Doctor's report.

"Commander, Mr Reed." She inclined her head and left Sickbay.

"What's her species called again?" asked Reed when T'Pol was gone and he was able to focus on something other that the Sub-commander's form. Namely on the door that closed behind said form.

"Vulcans." Trip had seen how Malcolm followed her with his eyes but he managed to hold back his laughter, though it was a close thing.

"She's pretty."

This time Trip laughed.

"What?" Reed turned to face him. "You don't think she's pretty?"

"T'Pol? Nah." Trip scrunched up his nose. "She's a Vulcan," he added as if it was supposed to explain anything.

Now Reed was staring at him bewildered. Then he shook his head, "You've got a warped sense of aesthetics. You do know that, don't you, Charles?"

Trip chuckled.

"Ah, there you are, gentlemen," the Doctor appeared with a scanner in hand and waved it over Trip.

"Good. Very good," he murmured, seeing the results.

Next, he repeated the procedure on Reed. He frowned at the read-out.

"Mr Reed, when was the last time you ate?" he looked at his guest intently.

"It was down on the planet, right?" Trip answered for him.

"I think so," Malcolm reluctantly agreed.

"Why? is something wrong?" Trip asked worriedly.

"I am not certain. Mr Reed, can you tell me how long it will be before you absolutely have to eat?" The Doctor went over to prepare the imaging chamber.

"Four days at most." After which, when the thirst for blood would become too much, he wouldn't be able to control himself. And there would be deaths.

Malcolm looked down at his feet, missing Trip's concerned gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me? You must be hungry."

"I can wait until you get stronger. Now you have to eat frequently anyway and the more often you're fed on, the more often your hunger pangs will be." Reed shrugged. "A vicious circle but it can't be helped."

Phlox watched their exchange with interest.

"I think I can help," he said eventually. "I have all the data necessary to replicate Commander Tucker's type of blood. In fact, that's what I used when he needed the transfusion. The process of replication, however, does take a while so during that time I would like to perform a more detailed scan on you, Mr Reed." The Doctor patted the bed that slid out of the chamber.

Malcolm gave it a doubtful look but lay down without protest. Once inside the machine, he tried to process what he'd just heard. Replicated? It sounded like they were going to give him the exact copy of Charles's blood. There had to be some device capable of doing just that. It was mind-boggling but if it worked, it would solve at least half of their problems.

When Malcolm emerged from the chamber, the Doctor already had a glass of replicated blood in hand.

"I noticed you are dehydrated. Please, drink this."

Reed took the glass and cautiously sniffed the contents. The liquid had a pleasant red colour and smelled almost like the real stuff. Almost.

"The replication algorithm ain't perfect," said Trip, seeing Malcolm's frown and correctly guessing at its reason. He nodded at the glass. "The Doc said you can drink this instead of, you know," he scratched the place on his neck where Reed had last bitten him.

"Indeed," Phlox chimed in. "I'm also going to replicate your blood for Commander Tucker's use, so I will need another sample from you."

Reed nodded.

"I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier," the Doctor continued, "but it seems to be the solution we were seeking. And it's certainly better than the substitute Mr Tucker had been taking."

"You think it's gonna be enough in the long run?" Trip asked, looking longingly as Reed sipped the drink, his tongue darting out between his elongated canines to lick his upper lip.

"I hope so," Phlox murmured, going over Reed's scan. "But as you said, Commander, the algorithm is not without flaws, so it may turn out that replicating will only provide us with something akin to emergency rations that need to be supplemented in the traditional way."

Phlox pondered over something for a while and then turned to Malcolm.

"Mr Reed, may I ask that you refrain from feeding on Commander Tucker for a few days? A week, let's say. I want to see what effect, if any, have the replicated 'meals' compared to the real ones. I know it may be inconvenient and a method that's far from ideal," Phlox seemed genuinely apologetic, "but in the absence of any other data, it's the only way I can ascertain thing like that."

"Fine," Reed sighed, putting the empty glass away.

"And once your hunger pangs stop," the Doctor turned to Trip, "I would ask you to do the same."

"Yeah, OK." Tucker slid off the biobed he was sitting on. "I could programme the Mess Hall replicator for us," he halted, imagining the possible reaction of other crewmembers to a vampire (or two) drinking blood at one of the tables. That probably wouldn't go down all that well. "Though on second thought, I'm not sure it's such a great idea."

"Yes," Malcolm smiled faintly. "People do tend to 'freak out' seeing fangs, don't they?"

"Well, as long as nobody sees you eating, I don't think it should be a big problem," the Doctor was ever the optimistic. "And you could always come here to use the Sickbay replicator."

"We'll figure something out," Trip called over his shoulder as he and Reed were leaving. "Thanks, Doc."


	9. Chapter 9

"Can you eat normal food, anyway?" Trip asked Malcolm on their way to the Mess Hall.

A week of Reed living solely on Tucker's _replicated_ blood was almost up. Trip couldn't be more grateful for that. He missed the slight pain of Malcolm's fangs nipping him and delight it brought something fierce. Tomorrow. He'll finally be able to have it again tomorrow. A shiver ran through his body and he felt a familiar tingling on the side of his neck. He rubbed the spot. Damn, he couldn't wait to get bitten again.

He somehow managed to focus on Malcolm's reply.

"Yeah, but what's the point? I don't like the taste and I don't need it. Why?"

Trip shrugged. "Just wondering if _I_ can still eat normally."

"Probably. Though I can't really see any point in that either."

Reed was profoundly glad that the week during which he had to drink Phlox's concoction was drawing to an end. It wasn't that bad but having Charles this close and not being allowed to feed directly on him was highly irritating.

Malcolm reined his temper in, suspecting that his testiness was somehow connected to the lack of proper meal for nearly a WEEK! And not just any proper meal. It had to be the other vampire's blood.

He exhaled noisily in annoyance. He should've known that being optimistic never really paid off. And Charles did tell him he was addicted to Malcolm's blood. That he might find himself in a similar state was not impossible.

He wanted to snarl. How stupid could he get?

He still didn't really believe, though, that he was in fact becoming too dependent on Charles. He decided he'd think about it later.

The Mess Hall doors were right in front of them.

Neither Tucker nor Reed came there to eat. Trip had his usual, by now, breakfast courtesy of Malcolm and Reed was pleased to see Trip could control his craving for blood much better now. The sharp and unexpected hunger pangs were also lessening to the point when Trip only needed to eat twice a day. That meant he could return to being on duty full-time and if Phlox saw it otherwise, the Commander was prepared to argue.

Reed had breakfast in Sickbay because although Trip had programmed the replicator in the Mess Hall to serve what they both needed, it was more of an emergency backup. Because no, the Mess probably wasn't the best place for vampires to eat, even if they had no intention to feed on their crewmates.

"Hey, Hoshi," Trip greeted the young woman Malcolm met a couple of days ago.

"Hi," Hoshi smiled brightly at both of them.

Reed sat at her table and turned off his UT. That was another thing he marvelled at. Initially he gave no thought as to how it was possible that those Humans spoke his language, but once he saw the tiny device they called Universal Translator, his respect for their engineers grew substantially.

Ensign Sato having learnt Rahtian in amazingly short time, in Malcolm's opinion, offered to teach him Earth's English. He accepted the offer and to his surprise discovered that the language wasn't as difficult as he thought.

"All right, got a meeting with the Capt'n," Trip headed for the Captain's Mess. "Have fun, you two."

"We will," Reed spoke in English and turned to the linguist.

"You're getting better and better," Hoshi said approvingly.

"Thanks. I have found that the construction of your language is similar to mine. And your Dickens helped too." Half-smirking, Reed tapped the PADD with audiobooks Sato gave him.

"I'm glad you think so," Hishi smiled. She found it amusing that Reed's own alien accent was a little like British English. It wasn't glaringly obvious but her trained ear picked out the sounds easily.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that she should start writing a research paper. Who knew, maybe by some freak incident their languages had common origins. Asking Reed about his planet's history would also be a good idea. She did just that.

xx xx xx

"Take a seat, Trip." Archer smiled amiably at his friend.

He next turned to a steward who brought a plate of scrambled eggs and put it in front of the Captain. "Thank you."

"Do you want something? eggs, juice?" Jon asked Trip while the steward hovered nearby.

"Nah, thanks. I already ate."

Archer shot him a speculative glance but said nothing.

"So," he tucked into his breakfast, "how are you doing? Phlox says you're pretty much ready to go back on duty full time."

"Yeah. Can't wait to get back to the Engineering. Taking a break is good but only if it's not _too_ long."

"I think I know what you mean," the Captain smiled. Then he decided to broach the subject of Trip's roommate. "And how's Malcolm?"

"Good, good," Trip said, wincing a little.

Jon noticed.

"Trip?"

"What?" Tucker looked at him, still grimacing slightly.

"What is it?" Archer prompted.

"Nothing really," Trip sighed. "It's just... It would be better if you didn't call him 'Malcolm' to his face."

That threw Jon completely. He had expected something along the lines of 'Malcolm's trying to steal our technology' or 'He wants to turn the rest of our crew into vampires' but not this.

Though if the Captain wanted to be perfectly honest with himself, his less than sanguine expectations didn't have any foundation in the facts. Hart's reports said nothing about Reed posing any sort of threat and the Lieutenant certainly would be the first to notice if something was amiss.

Now Archer was curious. "Why is that?"

"He told me..." Trip hesitated, "...it's too intimate. And he's been using only his last name since he became a vampire. I guess it may feel weird to hear 'Malcolm' again after twenty years or so."

"Twenty years?" Jon stared at Trip. "How old is he anyway?"

Trip shrugged lightly.

"Never mind." Archer took a sip of his orange juice. "So," he put the glass down, "we should just call him 'Reed'."

Tucker nodded, remembering with a small shudder how his fellow vampire reacted when Hoshi called him 'Malcolm' the first time they met. He seriously thought Reed was going to snap her neck. Hoshi, of course, didn't hear the low growl coming from Malcolm's throat – it was just below the range of what Human ears could detect – but she picked up on the fact that something was wrong.

Malcolm must have realised, though, that she didn't know, didn't mean to offend him, because a second later he told her simply that he preferred to be called Reed.

"Yeah," Trip answered Archer's question. "That would be safest."

Archer frowned at the wording but didn't ask further.

Trip drifted into memories of how later he and Reed talked about what had happened. Well, after Trip practically demanded to know 'what the hell was THAT?'

And Malcolm told him all right. Still bristling, he explained that among his kind the use of the name from before one became a vampire, the first name – the Christian name, Trip understood with sudden clarity – implied possession, ownership. And when used without consent, an offence degrading the one being addressed. Like saying 'You mean nothing, I own you'.

Of course, it was fairly common between the Sire and the Childe. Or the old vampire and the newly born one.

Trip frowned. "But you do call me Charles."

"I sired you." Reed smirked.

Trip folded his arms across his chest. "And you think it gives you any right to _own_ me?" Well now, if that's what Malcolm thought, he sure as hell had another think coming.

"You think it doesn't?" And suddenly Trip was looking into the eyes of a vampire and a face twisted in a sneer.

He felt something... tugging at his mind; a strange power slowly taking control over him. Trying to bend his will so insidiously, so stealthily. A soft whisper at the very edge of his hearing, oddly sweet, lulling his senses. Trip almost gave in to it but abruptly remembering he was annoyed, he snapped right out of the trance. Oh, now he got it.

"You want me what?" he glared at Reed. "You pushy son of a bitch."

He stalked over to Malcolm, his finger jabbing the air in front of Malcolm's face. "I'm not gonna kneel and I don't remember givin' you any permission to call me by my first name!"

Reed was so surprised he merely stood there and blinked. It didn't work. The mind link didn't work.

Figures. Bloody thick-headed alien. He scowled.

"Well then," he spat. "Maybe you should think twice before using _my_ name?"

Trip's anger evaporated. Shit, he did call him Malcolm. He'd even done so in front of other people but in his defence, he had no idea he shouldn't have.

"So, um," Trip shoved his hands into the pockets of his uniform. "What should I call you then?"

Malcolm stared at him with a look that clearly said 'What, are you stupid?'

"I mean," Tucker apparently got the message, "'Reed' seems kinda, I dunno, impersonal."

Malcolm's expression softened. "It's still my name, you know."

"Yeah but, well, everyone calls you that." And I don't want to be 'everyone'. The words remained unspoken but they echoed in Trip's head all the same. "Is 'Mal' OK, then?"

Reed rolled his eyes. "Fine, I suppose."

"You know, my friends call me Trip, so..." he grinned.

"Right. Trip."

"But..." Trip had to say it because somewhere in the middle of their fight, he discovered he kind of liked the idea of being allowed to use Reed's first name. It suggested trust. And closeness. "Maybe if we're not around other people, I could, um, call you 'Malcolm'?"

The man in question found himself surprised for the second time in less than ten minutes. Were all Humans so unpredictable or just this one?

"I think it can be arranged, Charles," Malcolm tested the water. And got a smile in response.

"Some good memories?" Archer noticed Trip's soft smile.

Tucker blinked, realising he was still sitting at the table with Jon.

"Just looking forward to starting my shift," he turned his smile at the Captain.

"Uh huh, right," Archer said amused. "Go on, then. I'll see you later, Commander."

"See ya, Capt'n."

As the door closed behind Trip, Jonathan was left to ponder the changes in his best friend.

Best friend... was he even still that?

Jon shook his head – he was being stupid. Of course they were still best friends. That at least didn't change.

And Trip didn't really change either. Now that his health had returned to its normal state and the addiction became something of a non-issue, Trip was the same as ever. Although...

Jon glanced at the reports Phlox had given him. Describing interactions between Tucker and Reed, the Doctor pointed to peculiar dynamics in their behaviour. They seemed to be protective of each other. Reed in particular felt responsible for the Commander but Trip, acting as a buffer between Reed and the crew, took care of the alien as well.

Archer remembered when a few days ago Trip came to him to ask permission for Malcolm to visit the ship's Armoury. Archer, of course, categorically refused and Trip didn't push, saying only that he kinda expected something like that. And that Malcolm probably would not be pleased but he'd understand.

The Captain thought, with a small amount of surprise, that it really bode very well for their cooperation and what was more, he felt pretty relieved that Reed didn't have total control over Tucker. At least he didn't seem to. From what Jon remembered about vampires, such a development was a distinct possibility. Or maybe he just watched too many ancient horror films.

Whatever. The main point was that for the time being Trip seemed to be mostly himself, Reed didn't look like he was going to steal Enterprise and that was all that really mattered.

The Captain's eyes drifted to the stack of PADDs, containing his own reports and he groaned inwardly. Unfortunately the reports to Starfleet Headquarters also mattered, quite a lot in fact, and he was definitely not happy with his.

Jon still couldn't decide how much he should tell Starfleet and his reports reflected this ambivalence.

Now, Starfleet essentially knew that Tucker had been sick. Archer went so far as to explain the illness was caused by an unknown venomous life-form and that the venom proved to be slightly mutagenous. He also mentioned that they were offered help on the planet.

After that particular report he got a message from Admiral Forrest, appraising him of the possible consequences – all unpleasant ones – should Enterprise contaminate the pre-warp culture.

Archer did his best to reassure the Admiral that the risk was minimal or even non-existent. Forrest seemed willing enough to believe him.

And then there was T'Pol and Vulcan High Command. Since Jon didn't have any Vulcans breathing down his neck and demanding Tucker to be either given to Vulcan scientists for further study or to be relieved of his duties, he could only assume his First Officer's reports were similarly understated.

xx xx xx

Malcolm Reed was bored. With Trip in Engineering and the rest of the crew going about their daily business, he was beginning to feel like the proverbial fifth wheel. Even Phlox was for once satisfied and didn't make him come to Sickbay so often.

He decided to visit the gym. No, there wasn't much point in trying to build musculature if you were half-dead, but maybe he could spar with a punchbag at least. It was best to keep the fighting skills in shape. He would have to remember to take it easy, though. Malcolm could easily rip the punchbag to pieces if he wasn't careful enough and he preferred to avoid that.

The gym wasn't as empty as Reed had expected. He spotted a couple of crewmen he hadn't seen before and one vaguely familiar face of Travis Mayweather. He had often accompanied Ensign Sato in the Mess Hall, Malcolm remembered.

"Hey, Reed," Travis waved a hand in his direction, stopping for a moment in his boxing. The punchbag swung to a halt in front of the man.

"Travis," Malcolm nodded in greeting, recognising gratefully that Hoshi had apparently let Mayweather know about the proper addressing etiquette. He snorted to himself, amused, but it was better than the skin-crawling feeling he normally got, hearing his first name from the Humans.

"Exploring the ship?" Travis meanwhile asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Something like that." Malcolm sniffed delicately. He smelt pure life and a very faint trace of blood – Mayweather must have scraped his hand or something. Reed stifled the instinct to open his mouth and taste the air carrying that smell.

He needed a distraction. A thought occurred to him. "Would you like a sparring partner?"

"Sure, man," Travis grinned his impossibly white smile. "But are you certain? Wouldn't want to damage our guest."

Reed smiled. "I'm quite confident in my abilities."

"OK then." Travis stood in position and attacked.

Reed easily evaded the right hook, though it was thrown quite expertly. However, the Human was much too slow. Reed's vampiric senses allowed him to see how Travis's muscles flexed and contracted as he was trying to land a blow and Malcolm had no trouble avoiding every single one of them. Finally seeing the Human aim his punch right at his nose, Malcolm caught Mayweather's fist and carefully applying pressure ('gently, gently...') twisted it, flipping Travis on his back.

Mayweather blinked, finding himself suddenly looking at the ceiling.

"Man, you're fast," he said impressed.

"And you, Mr Mayweather, are too slow," Malcolm smirked. "Come on, I'll show you some tricks." He grabbed Travis's hand and hauled him to his feet.

For the next hour or two Travis was on the receiving end of Reed's instructions and occasionally his fist. By the end of their training session Travis was panting and sweating but able to block most of Malcolm's blows and also throw a punch with more force. Which was always a plus.

"I'm done in," Travis finally announced and sat heavily on the floor.

"Yes, I suppose we might finish." Reed didn't even work up a sweat.

Travis took off his hand protectors and Malcolm caught a whiff of that very enticing smell again. The skin on one of Travis's knuckles was indeed broken and there was a small patch of already dried and crusted blood visible.

Malcolm realised he was getting more and more hungry.

"I've got to go." He turned and hastily exited the gym, leaving a somewhat puzzled Travis behind.

xx xx xx

"Charles, wake up." Malcolm sat at the edge of Trip's bed. He didn't bother to turn on the lights.

"I'm not sleeping." Trip rolled over to face the other vampire. The lack of light didn't affect his vision either and Trip could see Malcolm was hungry.

"Where have you been?" he asked as he tilted his head just so.

"Sparring with Mayweather." Malcolm moved towards Trip's neck.

"Really?" Trip backed away a little. "But you didn't do anything to him, right?"

Reed hissed exasperated. "Of course not. Can I have my dinner now?"

Trip sniggered. "Sure you can."

There was one last concern.

"You've already eaten, haven't you?" Malcolm asked in a slightly worried tone, his mouth a few inches above Trip.

"Yeah, go ahead."

And finally, _finally_ Reed drove his fangs deep into his flesh. Trip closed his eyes in utter bliss as Malcolm sucked unhurriedly.

At last he licked the tears in Trip's skin to quicken their healing, and sighed contentedly, "Lovely."

Trip, still in a blissful daze, purred faintly in agreement.


	10. Chapter 10

"I've never seen anything like that, sir."

Lieutenant Hart listened to one of the ensigns from Security telling him about an impromptu training session between Mayweather and Reed. Personally, Hart thought the young Ensign had a tendency to exaggerate at times.

"Yes, thank you." Hart dismissed the man and glanced at the next week's hand to hand combat training schedule. Perhaps he should see what that Reed was really capable of. Who knows, if he turned out to be any good, maybe he could train some of the crew. The more skilled they were, the greater the chance they would be in one piece after possible close encounters with hostile species. It never hurt to be prepered.

With that thought firmly in mind, the Lieutenant set off to find their alien guest.

xx xx xx

"Now, what you have to understand," Malcolm was lecturing Trip in the gym, "is that you are a lot faster and stronger than you used to be. Yes, I know you've already noticed that, but you have to learn how to use this advantage in a fight. And you have to remember to control it when you don't want to kill your opponent. I assume you wouldn't want to accidentaly do away with your crewmates while training, would you?" Malcolm raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, no." Trip paled slightly, realising what exactly could happen if he forgot himself.

"Right." Malcolm circled him with a considering expression on his face.

"As to your disadvantages," he continued, "stay away from sunlight—"

"Phlox's been working on it," Trip reminded him of the Doctor's efforts to create something that would ease their sensitivity to daylight.

"Well, yes, but until I can actually lay my hands on whatever he makes, remember that away missions are not a very good idea unless they happen to be at night. Also, try to avoid pointy wooden things, all right?"

Trip chuckled. "Or what? I'll explode into a pile of dust?"

"Precisely."

Well, that answer certainly put a damper on his amusement.

"To be exact," Malcolm went on, "you are dust only if a stake goes through your heart. Otherwise, you're pretty much safe from dying."

Trip digested the information and came to the conclusion that had 'awesome' written all over it.

"You mean I'm, like, immortal or something?" Yes, definitely awesome.

"I'm not sure, given that you're a Human, but I should certainly think so."

Trip's eyes gleamed. "Oh yeah, that's gonna be pretty handy."

"It is," Malcolm smirked. "Now, enough talking, let's begin our training. I'm going to attack you; do try to stay on your feet for longer than five seconds, OK?"

"Hey!" Trip barely had time to get indignant when Malcolm changed into a vampire and went at him with lightning speed.

Despite that, Tucker in a move that was just as fast as it was instinctive, was able to block the punch and answer with one of his own.

Reed ducked and grinned, "Not bad, but next time try to aim at me, not the empty air somewhere to my side."

Then in a flash he was behind Trip, clipping him round the ear. "And show me your true face."

Trip whirled around, snarling through his fangs and the fight started in earnest.

Reed took almost demonic delight in it, growling and dealing vicious blows that would shatter fragile human bones. Trip, in spite of his obvious lesser experience in fighting, held his own. Finally, though, he caved in and landed heavily on the floor after having been subjected to a particularly nasty kick.

He grinned up at Reed, discovering to his joy that he neither ached too much, nor panted with exertion. "Well, that was fun."

"I'm glad you think so." Malcolm executed a mocking bow.

"I wish we could go hunting properly, though," he added, sighing a tad wistfully. "There's really nothing like a good fight and a hunt, whichever comes first."

"Yeah? What animals did you usually hunt?"

Tucker was given a look of a 'surely, you're not that dim' variety.

"Oh yeah, right." Trip felt a bit silly for forgetting what Malcolm was, what they both were, before looking at Reed sharply.

"You will not go hunting here, on the ship." It wasn't a suggestion.

"Are you sure _you_ wouldn't like to try?" Reed was smiling slightly. "Think about how lovely it would be. To first catch the scent of your prey, hunger making you think of their blood so close to the surface of their skin. Then stalking, choosing a place to corner them and the scent subtly changing to include fear as the prey realises something is out to get them." Malcolm had his eyes closed at this point; that subtle smile never leaving his face. It didn't even look odd, with his fangs like that.

Trip listened transfixed.

"And then biting into their throat and finally drinking," Malcolm sighed deeply and opened his eyes. "You Humans are really tasty."

It took a few minutes for Trip to lose his glassy expression and for the last sentence to penetrate his brain. He made a sort of choking sound, but managed to be convincingly stern as he repeated "There will be no hunting and killing, ya hear me?"

"You know, there's actually no need to kill anyone. If you do it right, your meal will forget about the whole thing and walk away as happy as ever." Malcolm's words were deceptively reassuring.

"Really?" Trip's dazed look was momentarily back. Tempting though the prospect seemed, he finally shook it off.

"No way."

"Pity." Malcolm regarded Trip with amusement. "Ready for another round, then?"

This time Tucker attacked first and Reed, in addition to parrying his punches, offered some advice.

"Keep up your guard." He hit Tucker's jaw. Not hard for a vamp, more to drive the point home.

"You leave your left side open." He promptly took advantage of the weakness and Trip winced as he felt Reed's fist land somewhere in the vicinity of his kidney.

"And learn to fight dirty." Malcolm caught Trip's hand, twisted it at an odd angle and simultaneously stepped back a little, pushing Trip away. He tripped over Malcolm's foot and with a grunted 'oof' and a thud, found himself flat, back on the gym's floor.

Trip lay there for a minute, feeling there was surely gonna be some serious bruising on his poor back, after all.

Malcolm peered down at him with some satisfaction.

"Stop looking so smug and give me a hand, will ya?" Trip grumbled.

Malcolm reached down, but instead of helping Trip to his feet, he put his palm on Tucker's throat and squeezed a little.

"Perhaps, while we're at it, I should find out if your species still need to breathe after being turned." There was really no malice in Reed's face, only a sort of devilish mischief and a hint of curiosity.

Trip's eyes widened and a frisson of fear ran through him.

"You wouldn't."

Mal wouldn't, right? Trip lay absolutely still.

Reed's took in the scent of his frightened Childe. He smiled, all sharp teeth.

"No, I wouldn't. Not much fun in strangling you, as far as I can see. Of course, I might rethink that if you start being particularly annoying." There was still that smile. Trip relaxed a little, though Malcolm didn't relinquish his hold.

"You do trust me, don't you?"

"Yeah," Trip finally replied.

"Then you have to start trusting me with your crewmates as well, and stop asking me if I'm sure they didn't become my snack food. It's getting tiresome."

Trip had a vaguely guilty look about him. He had asked Malcolm a few times if he'd been behaving himself. He didn't think it would bother the other man that much but apparently he was wrong.

"All right."

He looked into the grey eyes. "I do trust you," he said, willing Malcolm to believe.

In that moment the gym's door opened and Lieutenant Hart stepped in, glad he finally managed to locate his target and eager to discuss the new training schedule.

What he saw made his blood run cold, though. Without even thinking about it, Hart whipped out the phase pistol he took to wearing discreetly around Reed and ordered:

"Move away from the Commander."

Instantly, Malcolm tried to turn and face the intruder, a growl escaping, although he managed to retract his fangs just in time. Trip, though, grabbed Malcolm's hand still resting at his throat, trying to stop him from getting into a fight with the Lieutenant.

"It's OK, Horace," Tucker called out, his face shifting back to human. "We were just sparring."

Hart came closer, not lowering his weapon and eyeing Reed with suspicion. Malcolm arranged his features into a sort of friendly smile and, as Trip released his wrist, straightened up.

"Are you all right, Commander?" Hart's eyes were trained on Reed.

"Sure I am." He finally got up as well. "Now, put down the heavy guns, OK?" Trip smiled, but stepped slightly forwards, so that he was in front of Reed; as if to shield him.

The Lieutenant looked over at Tucker. He didn't notice any blood, broken limbs or even scratches so he was willing to admit, albeit reluctantly, that maybe he was too hasty in assuming the worst.

"Very well, sir." Hart put his phase pistol in the holster.

"I apologise," he turned to Reed, "but since Captain Archer told me of the exact nature of your species, I prefer to stay alert."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at that. Did that Captain blab it to absolutely everyone? Bloody ignorant—

"Does anybody else know what... er, what he is?" Trip apparently had similar thoughts.

"No. I understand that such a revelation could cause tension among the crew. And so far," he added, looking at Reed again as if contemplating something, "there has been no reason for concern."

Reed cocked his head and returned the Lieutenant's stare. Hart broke the eye contact – it was making him acutely uncomfortable – and continued speaking after short pause.

"Actually, Mr Reed, I came here looking for you. I have an offer I would like you to accept or, at least, think about."

Malcolm frowned.

"I'd like you to train some of the crew in hand to hand combat. I heard the lesson you gave Travis Mayweather was quite spectacular. And effective," Hart added, remembering his latest session with the man.

Now Malcolm gaped.

"You want me to train your people?" He had to make sure he heard that correctly.

"Yes."

Oh look, he did.

"Of course—" and Hart did seem to be entirely serious, "—first I'd have to evaluate your skills myself." He paused to gauge Reed's reaction. It was hard to read the blank look the man gave him, but Hart thought he saw a glimmer of interest.

"No time like present," the Lieutenant gestured to the centre of the gym floor. "Shall we?"

Tucker stepped to the side, giving Reed an anxious look. He too was surprised at Hart's offer, but recognised that it actually made a lot of sense. Not only it would give Mal something to do, it would also be good for the crew. He only hoped Malcolm wouldn't get too carried away.

Hart had a typical build of a security officer – bulky and muscled. He was a good head taller than Reed, but appearances were never more deceptive than they were now.

It turned out Trip needn't have worried; he could see the tight control Reed had over himself.

And Hart still landed on his ass, but it was only after a good fight. Trip thought, slightly envious, that Hart was certainly better than him. He might have his new strength, but Horace and Mal had technique and probably a lot of experience. And it showed because before he eventually lost the fight, the Lieutenant managed to send Reed sprawling too. Even Mal looked impressed.

"Quite a performance, I must say," Hart admitted after picking himself up and rubbing his shoulder; that was gonna be one big bruise.

"I had time and incentive to learn," Reed acknowledged the praise, recalling the days when he worked for the Watchers' Council and the life afterwards.

Hart looked at him curiously.

"Your skills and experience would be valuable for us if you decided to train the crew," he said, though, instead of probing further. "Security team first, I think."

"All right. Why not?"

Truth be told, the proposition was quite appealing. Malcolm was starting to get seriously bored, having very little to do on Enterprise.

Hart too looked pleased enough, thinking that now the arrangement needed only Archer's approval. Which, the Lieutenant was confident, would be granted.

xx xx xx

Sickbay was quiet. Not unusually so, but for the last couple of weeks there hadn't been any serious incidents apart from a sprained ankle and a few burns and cuts. That lull, which no doubt had been largely caused by the Enterprise's staying close to Rahte, had given Phlox time to work both on the blood substitutes for Tucker and Reed and on some cure for that rather fatal problem of their 'sun allergy'. The Doctor had a little more success with the latter and today he gave his two patients the necessary injections. They were followed by some sort of radiotherapy the Doctor was a bit vague about, but he was pleased to see his solution worked.

Hearing they could now go sunbathing any time they wanted, Trip was overjoyed but Malcolm was sceptical, which, in all honesty, was a reaction Phlox had expected. Well, as a human saying went, you couldn't have everything and Mr Reed's eternal and effusively expressed gratitude was certainly one of those things. Not for the first time the Doctor thought being that reserved couldn't be really healthy.

He sighed, picked up the PADD with his latest report and went to see the Captain.

When he reached the Ready Room, he met Lieutenant Hart just leaving. He looked very pleased with himself.

"Doctor Phlox."

"Mr Hart." Phlox smiled.

"Come in, come in," Archer waved the Doctor further into the room. "Please, sit down."

"Lieutenant Hart has just asked my permission for allowing Reed to train the crew in hand to hand fighting. I would like to hear your opinion," the Captain went straight to business.

"There are no medical reasons why Mr Reed shouldn't do that," Phlox answered honestly. "He is mentally and emotionally stable young man and I don't believe he's any danger to people. If that's what you're worried about."

Archer smiled faintly. Yes, that was what he worried about. He was relieved to hear his fretting wasn't necessary this time.

"So, how's Trip?" That had been the Captain's usual question since the whole ordeal started.

"Perfectly fine. Actually, he's now healthier than he's ever been if you don't mind his almost nonexistent pulse.

I have finished my tests," with a nod Phlox indicated the PADD in Archer's hand, "and what I can tell you is that, compared to his state prior to the... incident, Mr Tucker is now notably stronger and faster. His body is able to heal much more quickly and his hearing, sight and sense of smell are enhanced. He is also immune to most of viral and bacterial infections. He's very much like Mr Reed in that respect. Of course, the price for all this is Mr Tucker's dependance on Mr Reed's blood."

"You didn't find anything to replace it with, then?" Jon couldn't quite hide his disappointment.

"I'm sorry," Phlox shook his head. "I will continue my research but what substitutes I have developed so far, do not work."

"So you _have_ discovered something."

Phlox made a dismissive gesture. "What I have in, shall we say, terms of meals, actually suits Mr Reed better. If Commander Tucker's diet consisted solely of substitutes, he would suffer malnutrition and withdrawal symptoms again."

The Captain slumped visibly in his chair. The news wasn't the most pleasant to accept, but what choice did he have?

"All right. Thank you, Doctor."

Phlox felt compelled to end their meeting on an optimistic note, though.

"I have, however, managed to treat their extreme sensitivity to sunlight so that it will no longer cause them any harm."

The Captain brightened a little at that.

"Well, that's great. Thanks, Phlox," he said genuinely grateful. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	11. Chapter 11

The comm unit in Archer's cabin chimed and then Hoshi Sato's voice came through.

"Captain, there's a message for you from Admiral Forrest."

"Put him through to my quarters."

After a second the screen on Archer's desk lit up with the image of the Admiral's face. He appeared to be in a very good mood.

"Well, Jon, it seems the quiet spell for Enterprise has ended. We've just been contacted by a species called Viittians, if I'm reading this correctly," Forrest squinted at a PADD lying on his desk.

"Anyway, they have long-standing association with the Vulcans and, apparently, are eager to get to know us. Sort of welcome us to space, I suppose. Ambassador Soval told me the Viittians are fairly peaceful, if sometimes 'overly emotional' people."

Jon could swore he heard the quotation marks in Forrest's voice. He had yet to meet a race that Vulcans wouldn't consider 'overly emotional'.

"I don't have to tell you how important this mission is," the Admiral continued. "Don't screw it up, Jon."

The message ended. The image on the screen reverted to the standard logo and the bottom line filled up with numbers that showed coordinates of the Viittian homeworld.

Archer rubbed his face. The new planet was a couple of light years away. Not really far, but they would have to take Reed with them anyway. Phlox had made it – unfortunately – quite clear that Reed was pretty important to Trip, at least in one way. Archer didn't particularly like the fact that he had to drag the alien everywhere they went, but _that_ really wasn't up to him to choose.

"Travis," the Captain, glancing at the computer screen, spoke to the comm. The helm station received the new coordinates at the same time he did. "Lay the new course. We're leaving immediately."

xx xx xx

The new planet looked nice and friendly. Jon, mindful of Forrest's words, was busy, charming the natives and making as favourable an impression as he could. This particular task wasn't really a chore because the Viittians turned out to be nice and friendly as well.

The rest of the visiting party, apart from Archer, included Sub-commander T'Pol, Ensign Sato and Commander Tucker. After being greeted at the Embassy (in what must have been the biggest room they'd ever seen) by official representatives of the local government, they were shown to a place that looked like a banqueting hall. It was huge and with ceiling so high it seemed to disappear somewhere in the sky.

The Captain found himself thinking that most of the buildings on Viittia were a direct contrast to people living on the planet. Though decidedly humanoid, Viittians were also rather short; the tallest reaching Archer's shoulders. The houses they built, however, soared; their structure as delicate looking as, no doubt, it was strong. Perhaps architects here simply loved the dizzy heights, Jon smiled to himself.

The central place of the banqueting hall the Captain and his crew were led to was reserved for a large table simply groaning with a wide variety of foodstuffs. There were lots of examples of what was probably local cuisine, but there were also things that looked like Andorian Ale and Risian fruits.

Jatek, an elderly woman and the head of the Viittian delegation, announced that a less official part of their meeting could begin. And it began with a dinner.

The Enterprise crew were first served some kind of black soup. Well, the Humans were; T'Pol was offered plomeek broth.

"It's our traditional dish, called _czernina_." Jatek smiled. "Eat up, eat up."

The UT didn't pick up the word, but the soup, despite its strange colour, smelt fine and so after careful sampling everyone was quite happy to follow Jatek's advice.

"This is great," Trip licked his spoon clean after finishing his meal. For some reason his fangs just itched to make an appearance but he suppressed the instinct. It would be awkward and hell to explain.

"Think we could get the recipe for Chef?" He smacked his lips. It's been a while since he ate normal food. It just didn't taste right – or didn't taste of anything at all – and Trip was delighted to discover that it sure wasn't the case with what they were given now, whatever the soup was called.

"I'll see what I can do." Archer smiled, though he wasn't quite as enthusiastic about the dish. Or the thought of what Chef could make out of it when he was in one of his 'creative' moods. Some of his experiments with cooking were better left untasted.

"I'm sure it won't be a problem," spoke a Viittian woman sitting on Trip's other side. "Not everyone takes to our cuisine so quickly. I'm glad you like it."

"What's not to like?" Trip grinned charmingly at her. "The food is excellent and the company makes it even more so."

The woman looked searchingly at him, but lifted a corner of her mouth in a small smile. "Thank you, Commander."

"Call me Trip."

They talked about inconsequential things; time passing pleasantly.

"Maybe we'll go for a walk? Would you like to see the gardens surrounding our Embassy?" the woman asked after the meal as everyone rose from the table. Trip still couldn't properly pronounce her name – something with a lot of consonants.

"Sure. See you later, Capt'n," he winked at Jon and offered his arm to his companion.

They went outside and wandered through the neighbouring landscape. To Trip's eye the most prominent feature of it was a huge collection of rocks and stones artistically arranged in a couple of piles sitting here and there.

He enjoyed the sun, though. Yep, Phlox's cure definitely worked.

"So," Trip's new friend spoke. "How do you like our stone garden?"

Oh, so the stones _were_ the garden.

"It's very... interesting," Trip nodded empathically. He could damn well be diplomatic. On occasion.

"It is, isn't it." She looked around with satisfaction. "The gardens are really taken care of."

Trip opted for nodding silently again. Frankly, he wasn't sure what else he could do. Or say. 'Nice earthy colours?' He thought not.

"You know, I need to ask you something." The woman faced him, looking serious. Not so serious, though, that Trip thought he had a reason to start worrying.

"I'm a physician myself," she continued, "and I hope you won't consider it bizarre or impolite, but I'd like to scan you."

For one mighty uncomfortable moment Trip wondered if that was some Viittian version of a come-on. Then, somewhat relieved, he saw a scanner in her hand. Oh, so she meant that literally. OK.

"I thought the data we sent to your people included scans of a human body," he said, a bit confused.

"Yes, but I think there's nothing better than hands-on approach. I believe that, if possible, information should always be obtained directly from the source or, in this case, a specimen." She had that knowledge-thirsty look in her eye that reminded Trip of Phlox when he was in his research mode. All doctors were the same.

Well, it couldn't hurt, could it?

"All right, then."

Tucker stood still while his companion passed her scanner over him. Finally she smiled, seemingly satisfied with what she found, but Trip thought her smile had a strange sadness to it. Or maybe it was that he just wasn't very good at reading the expressions on the alien face.

"Did I pass muster?" he joked.

"I really hoped the readings wouldn't look like this," the woman sighed and Trip's smile faltered. "I am very sorry."

She took out something that looked like a thin whistle and put it to her lips. The sound that came out of the thing was so shrill and loud that it even seemed to hurt Trip's teeth. Wincing, he covered his ears in vain hopes of blocking the infernal noise.

Predictably, it didn't help, but suddenly there was another man at his side. He either must have been somewhere near the whole time or he followed Trip and the Viittian from the reception hall.

That was Trip's last thought before he saw the man raising his fist and then the world blinked out.

xx xx xx

Trip Tucker woke up to darkness. He felt relatively fine, considering that someone had obviously just punched his lights out. He tried to sit up, but couldn't move and finally he realised he was tied to a flat, hard surface. He wondered if it was good time to start getting nervous.

Suddenly there was a noise: someone was opening the door. The lights were switched on and Trip saw a bit more clearly that he was in a room resembling a laboratory. Clean and white and bright and not at all cosy or even pleasant. Plus he was tied to a metal lab table standing in the middle of the room.

A figure entered his field of vision and Trip squinted, only to see his erstwhile Viittian friend.

"What the hell's going on here?" he demanded, tugging at his restraints.

"I'm sorry, Trip, but it's for your own good."

The woman looked at him with something approaching regret or pity. Trip couldn't be sure, but didn't much care for either. And under the circumstances, he had a profound urge to petulantly tell her that only his friends could call him by the nickname. He somehow felt she no longer belonged to _that_ category.

"And that means?" he snapped, swallowing a curse.

"We know what you really are," she said, putting on something that looked like a lab coat. And probably was one, considering the décor.

"We've never encountered your species before, but we do know _your_ particular genetic make up."

Trip watched with growing trepidation as she readied a couple of hyposprays.

"Funny, at first I thought the rest of your landing party were all like you. Apart from the Vulcan, of course," the woman continued. "You ate our blood soup with such a relish."

She was amused at Tucker's surprised croak, "Blood soup?"

"Oh yes. It's animals' blood, to be sure, but tasty all the same, wasn't it?" She moved to another table to take some notes while Trip gulped nervously. Goddammit, so that was why...

"I soon realised, though, that the Humans were just another ordinary race: mostly harmless, except you, that is. The scan I took and your reaction to the Whisperer—," she took out the whistle from her pocket and spun it between her fingers, watching Trip's reaction, "—only confirmed my theory."

"What theory?" Trip still hoped it was one giant misunderstanding, but that hope died pretty quickly when he heard the next words.

"You're a vampire and we won't have the likes of you walking among normal people." Her gaze hardened. "I'm still curious about how you were able to stay in sunlight for so long, not turning into dust. But that's what we have this lab for. A few experiments and we ought to know something.

"Oh, don't worry," she added, perhaps seeing the horror dawning on Trip's face. "We won't kill you. But we do have to equip you with a behaviour-modifying chip. It will prevent you from feeding on sentient beings or harming them in any way," she explained further, which really did nothing for Trip's nerves. "The research we've conducted on vampires of other species we've met is promising, but unfortunately we can't predict with any great precision the results once we put the chip into your skull. Each species is different, after all."

This was some nightmare. Trip started struggling with the straps holding him, in earnest.

The Viittian sighed, picked one of the hyposprays and pressed it to Trip's neck. His desperate cry of 'Malcolm!' never had a chance to leave his lips and darkness surrounded him once again.

xx xx xx

In his cabin on Enterprise, Reed was lounging on his bunk, putting the ship's database to use and listening to a selection of Earth and Vulcan music available there. His eyes closed, Malcolm relaxed and let the sounds flow through him.

The Vulcan compositions he found pleasant, but too restrained. Although beautifully complicated, they were too confined by the musicians' strict adherence to logic and the lack of any emotion in performance. On the whole, he decided the music made by Humans was closer to his tastes. And it reminded him a little of home.

Malcolm drifted into memories when suddenly he was hit by a burst of absolute panic, the force of it rather resembling crashing into a ten-ton truck. His eyes snapped open, glowing cold silvery-grey, and he growled.

Charles was in danger.

xx xx xx

The door to the Initiative's underground laboratory opened and a small man in a lab coat, that he seemed to be drowning in, entered.

"Doctor Pryce," the Viittian woman bowed slightly.

"I see Hostile 274 has been rendered more cooperative." Doctor Pryce looked at the unconscious Tucker. "Good."

"You know," he turned to take the offered hypospray, "it constantly surprises me how many vampires we meet among other species. It's like a disease or vermin spreading all over the galaxy."

He drew some of Trip's blood into the transparent container of the hypospray. "Red. So it's iron-based," he muttered to himself and then continued in a louder voice, "and someone needs to stop it before it's entirely too late." The Doctor took his job very seriously.

He handed the hypo to the woman at his side.

"The usual analysis, please. And before Hostile 274 awakens, put him in Block C, cell 12; it's free again."

xx xx xx

Back at the reception, Jon was beginning to wonder where Trip had disappeared to this time. It was getting dark outside and the Enterprise delegation had been offered rooms to stay in for the night. The Captain had accepted and thanked on behalf the four of them, but now it was time to make use of those rooms and Tucker was nowhere in sight.

"Have you seen Trip, Hoshi?" Archer leant over to speak to her while his eyes scanned the room.

"Not since he left with Gcrchamsha-Sahker." The linguist easily got her tongue around the name the Commander had so much trouble with.

"Perhaps they are still in the stone gardens," suggested T'Pol. "I was told they are very extensive."

"Perhaps, but he should be back by now." Jon took out his communicator. "Archer to Tucker."

There was no response except for a faint crackle of static.

"Trip?" he tried again with the same result.

Christ, not again, Jon groaned quietly. If Trip got into trouble... Funny how Jon had recently always expected the worst just waiting to happen.

His dismal thoughts were forestalled, though, when he spotted the woman with whom Trip had taken that inordinately long walk. She moved in their direction, a slightly apologetic smile on her face.

"Captain Archer," she spoke when she was close enough to be heard over the buzz of conversations around. "I must say I enjoyed talking with Commander Tucker very much. It was a very enlightening experience." She smiled at Jonathan.

Jon's own smile was a little strained. He hoped the 'enlightening experience' wouldn't result in yet another misfortune for Trip to stumble on. Like getting pregnant, for example. Or the lady standing in front of him getting pregnant, God forbid. He shook the mental images off, accepting he wasn't being particularly fair to Trip. Or to the lady.

What he was truly concerned about was Tucker's continued absence.

"I'm glad to hear it," he answered, that strained smile still hovering about his lips. "Is Trip with you?"

"Oh no, he went to see our Research and Development base. It's situated very near and when I told him about the projects our engineers are currently working on, he couldn't wait to take a look at it. I'm afraid I couldn't have stopped him even if I tried."

Archer frowned. "He didn't report he was going to be away for longer than we expected."

The thought that maybe he was behaving like a mother hen did cross his mind but, well, better safe than sorry.

Gcrchamsha didn't look worried. "I'm sure he forgot. Your Commander is a charming man, but quite excitable when presented with an opportunity to see any kind of machinery."

That much was true. Still, Archer felt something wasn't quite right. Maybe he was getting just a tiny bit paranoid, but with Trip he thought it was justified.

"We tried to contact him, but he didn't respond."

"Oh," the woman seemed a bit surprised or perhaps anxious, but the look quickly disappeared. "It's probably because the R&amp;D base is shielded for security reasons."

Jon wanted to say something else, but at that moment Jatek, who suddenly materialised by his elbow, claimed him for what was surely going to be a lengthy conversation about some, as she had said earlier, peculiar customs on Earth. The old woman commanded respect and Jon let himself be led away from their little group.

Turning around for a moment, the Captain cast his two officers and the younger Viittian woman a quick glance. It said their discussion wasn't over yet.


	12. Chapter 12

Reed stood before the door to Lieutenant Hart's quarters, thinking how he should proceed. He had considered talking to Mayweather – they weren't exactly friends, but they seemed to have found a common ground and he quite liked the man – but in the end Malcolm decided he didn't feel like explaining everything to him. Especially how he knew there was something wrong with Trip.

He could feel it – a kind of nervous energy tasting faintly of fear, crackling along the bond they shared. The connection was still weak and still didn't even come close to telepathy but, nevertheless, it got stronger since they began to feed on each other. They were able to receive only the vaguest of impressions of the other's feelings, but now it was more than enough. Funny, Malcolm hadn't _really_ noticed their link before, but once he did, he was pretty sure that if he were to follow it, he would be able to find Charles no matter where he was.

Reed raised his hand and pressed the chime. He decided the Chief of Security wouldn't dismiss him on the spot. Hart's professional paranoia simply wouldn't allow that.

"Come in." Hart's voice drifted from the inside of the cabin.

Malcolm smiled a little – oh, how freely the invitations were given. The Lieutenant should really be more careful. But Malcolm wasn't here to eat.

The door slid open and Reed stepped in.

"Mr Reed," Hart rose from his chair and looked at his visitor curiously. "What can I do for you?"

Malcolm quickly glanced around the room – definitely more out of habit than any real necessity to make sure there were no threats inside.

"Lieutenant," he addressed the man formally. "I believe Commander Tucker is in danger." There was no point in beating around the bush.

Hart's eyes narrowed and he instantly looked as suspicious as Malcolm ever saw him.

"What makes you think so?"

"You know what I am," Malcolm lifted his chin in a somewhat arrogant gesture and somehow managed to look down his nose at the Lieutenant, despite the fact that he actually had to look up at him. He wasn't going to apologise for what he was nor for what Charles was now too (though that little fact was still hidden from the Lieutenant). However, he could impart at least some news. "Trip and I share a certain connection. And right now it tells me he's in danger."

"What sort of danger?" were Hart's first words, but as he looked the alien in the eye – even more distrustfully if it was possible – he added, "And what sort of connection?"

"That's not important. Call it intuition, if you like." Reed was getting impatient. "Look, could you at least check up on the away team?"

Well, yes, that he could probably do. Hart didn't have to believe him, but on the other hand, underestimating such a potentially crucial information just wouldn't do.

He pressed the comm button to contact the Bridge.

"Ensign," he spoke when the officer manning communications station reported. "Please, contact Captain Archer and ask if everything's all right."

"Sir?" the Ensign allowed the question to slip out, not sure why he was given such an order.

"Just do it, Ensign."

Hart and Reed waited, tense silence filling the moment. It didn't help that the Lieutenant's still suspicious stare was fixed firmly on Malcolm.

The comm chimed and Hart shifted his attention to what the Ensign was saying.

"The Captain says things are going fine. He mentioned that Commander Tucker went to see a Viittian R&amp;D base and said there was something strange about it, but did not say anything more."

That got alarm bells ringing in Malcolm's head.

"We've got to get him back."

Hart closed the comm link and glanced at Reed. "What do you mean?"

"He's not safe in that place."

Malcolm was thinking fast, sifting through his options while Hart was doing some thinking of his own. The Captain seemed to be sure of their team's safety. However, he also said Commander Tucker wasn't with them at the moment and it looked like he thought there was something not quite right about the absence. And _that_ could become a cause for concern.

He finally decided that maybe it was better to listen to the man.

"Mr Reed, you will accompany me to the Bridge."

Malcolm nodded, grateful that Hart took him seriously. He had been prepared to use the thrall, in case reasoning didn't work on the Lieutenant. For now, though, it didn't seem to be necessary. Hart might just be humouring him, but as long as it got Reed what he wanted, he didn't particularly care.

"What do you want to do?"

"Locate Commander Tucker's biosign. We can at least find out where he is."

It sounded like a good plan or at least a place to start.

They arrived at the Bridge, the beta shift greeting them with curious glances. Hart moved to his station and began to work, programming the sensors to cover the area of the planet's surface where Tucker was supposed to be.

He frowned at the read-out.

"What is it?" Malcolm was peering over the Lieutenant's shoulder at the screen on the console.

"Mr Tucker's not at the Embassy, nor in its immediate surroundings."

This didn't look good.

Hart adjusted the settings to widen the scanners' range.

Within a two kilometre radius of the Embassy there was no sign of Trip, and Hart decided it was high time to contact Archer again.

"Ensign, hail the Captain."

In that same moment, however, the communications station beeped and Archer's voice filled the Bridge.

"Enterprise, we're trying to locate Commander Tucker. Scan the Embassy building and the grounds around it for his biosign."

"We've just done that, Captain," the Lieutenant answered. "He's not there."

"Wait," Archer was obviously surprised. "You already did the scan? That was pretty fast."

The Ensign handling communication, chuckled silently to himself at that.

"We began scanning some time ago, sir. At Mr Reed's request, actually." Hart threw a look at the man in question still standing at his shoulder.

"Reed?" Now Archer's voice held a note of suspicion. "What does he have to do with it?"

"He told me he believed the Commander might be in danger."

"What? When?"

"Just a few minutes ago, sir."

There was a short pause, after which the Captain spoke again.

"Mr Reed, are you there?"

"Yes." Malcolm shifted closer to Hart's station.

"You think something might happen to Trip?" Archer was clearly worried.

And probably wondering why it was always Tucker that was their trouble-magnet, Hart thought to himself.

"Yes." Malcolm felt it through his skin, under his skin, and it was a feeling he absolutely loathed. The need to protect someone else beside himself was rather new and unprecedented in Malcolm's un-life, but not unwelcome, he decided in the end. He would take care of what was his.

"All right," the Captain seemed to reach a decision. "I have to talk to someone. We'll be in touch. Archer out."

Reed growled quietly, baring his teeth; he could do nothing trapped here on Enterprise. He watched darkly as Hart adjusted the scanners to increase their range again.

xx xx xx

Down on the planet, Jon was striding purposefully towards Gcrchamsha, who stood in a corner, sipping a drink from a delicate high glass.

"I think we need to talk," he took her gently by the elbow, steering them further from the crowd; T'Pol and Hoshi by the Captain's side.

The Viittian smiled politely, although she looked askance at the physical contact.

"Of course, Captain. I'm listening."

"Do you know," Archer started innocently enough, "why it is that we can't locate Commander Tucker even with our ship's sensors?"

Gcrchamsha appeared puzzled. "I told you the R&amp;D building is heavily shielded."

"All right, then point us to it. Maybe we'll too take a look around and besides, I want to talk to my Engineer."

The woman's face was grave. "I'm afraid that's impossible. Mr Tucker cannot be disturbed now."

"Let me put it this way," Jonathan was fast losing his patience. "I want to see him now or else we're prepared to call a security team and look for him using less diplomatic methods."

Gcrchamsha's body stiffened and she stared at Archer coldly.

"I wouldn't recommend it, Captain."

Then a certain measure of compassion showed in her eyes. "We know that Commander Tucker is dangerous and we also know the reason for it. I'm a member of an organisation called the Initiative. We're present at every contact with offworlders and it is our duty to isolate individuals like your Commander and deal with the threat they present."

T'Pol didn't so much as bat an eye, but as Hoshi listened, her eyebrows rose higher and higher. Finally she couldn't stay silent any longer.

"Sir, what is she talking about?"

"You didn't know, did you." The Viittian turned to Sato. "I'm not surprised. Vampires are manipulative and evil to the core. They cannot be trusted and they certainly cannot be allowed to walk the world freely."

Hoshi was pressing her palm to her mouth shocked, but now was not the time for histrionics. She bottled up her distress and focussed on the conversation at hand.

"It would be very unwise of you to hurt Commander Tucker." T'Pol in her usual understated way let the woman know that the Initiative would live to regret such an action.

The Viittian seemed affronted. "We will do no such thing. We are a respected organisation and contrary to what you may think we do not hurt people unnecessarily."

That sounded promising – sort of – but Jon still gritted his teeth. "For the last time I ask you," there was a dangerous glint in his eye, "tell us where our man is."

"He's in one of our laboratories, but you're being unreasonable, Captain," Gcrchamsha said calmly. "And besides that's just it – it's no longer _your_ man. I'll be honest with you, the person you knew is gone and in his place there's a blood-thirsty demon. Please, understand that it would be better for you and your people if you accepted the truth and remembered it."

"But that's _not_ true," Hoshi finally found her voice. "Commander Tucker is the same man he's ever been."

The woman shook her head and spoke with exaggerated patience. "Ensign Sato, the vampire can mask himself. Yes, he looks the same, but that's the extent of his similarities to you, Humans. We can help, though," her tone softened. "We can make him the person he was before. We can cure him."

That caught Jon's attention.

"Cure?" he asked, hardly daring to believe.

"Yes. We're still researching the subject and the treatment itself, but our scientists are very optimistic."

Archer thought hard. Here they were, fate putting in their hands the answer to most pf their problems. The answer Phlox was looking for – so far without success. If Trip were normal again, they could finally fly Reed back to his planet and leave the whole bloody mess behind.

That thought reminded Jon of Hart's warning. Didn't Reed say Trip was in some danger? Never mind how he was able to tell that, it could mean Gcrchamsha was telling the truth – of course Reed would see Trip returning to being fully Human as a threat.

Jon was tempted. He was really tempted. But it all boiled down to the question who he trusted more. Was it Reed who, although he was behaving himself, surely had some very debetable morals since it was him who turned Trip into a thing straight out of horror movies? Or was it this woman who, though civil and friendly, could just as well have her own hidden agenda?

"I don't know, sir. I don't know," by his side, Hoshi was saying quietly as if to herself, shaking her head and staring at the Viittian.

T'Pol merely stood, composed as ever, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts.

Archer still couldn't decide.

"Could you tell us what the treatment involves? Our Doctor tried to find something that would reverse Trip's condition, but we've had no luck."

"We will implant a microchip in the Commander's brain. That will stop the vampire from harming others."

T'Pol's eyebrows shot up, Hoshi let out a small gasp and Jon had a look of complete and utter disbelief all over his face.

"That... That's a rather invasive procedure," he finally sputtered. "We can't let you do that."

"It's quite effective, though," Gcrchamsha assuerd him. "And forgive me, Captain, but we don't need your permission. We'll do what must be done."

Well, that tipped the scales. No one was going to lay a finger on any of his people. Archer controlled his rising anger with some difficulty. "If you don't release him, I will take official steps. You essentially kidnapped a member of my crew. I'm sure this won't go down well with authorities here." The threat was clear in his voice.

"The government don't interfere with the Initiative's work." Gcrchamsha was unmoved. "You are in no position to question our methods. Good day, Captain."

She turned away but Jon caught her wrist. She looked at him angrily. "Whatever you're intending to do, I wouldn't advise it." Her voice was low and suddenly dangerous. Jon noticed she moved her free hand to her side. Did she have a weapon concealed somewhere in her robe?

He let go of her and forced himself to relax. He wouldn't make a scene here. From the corner of his eye Jon noticed T'Pol's miniscule nod, his main focus on the retreating figure of the Viittian.

"I'm going to talk to Jatek." The Captain didn't give up that easily. "Stay here."

He spotted the older woman on the other side of the room, but to his dismay, he also saw Gcrhamsha approaching her. They talked briefly, Jatek once throwing a glance at the three Humans. Then she patted the younger woman's hand and smiled while Gcrchamsha bowed and left.

Well, no help there, Jon thought grimly.

Although... No, he had to try.

"Madam," the Captain also bowed formally before Jatek. "I don't know if you were apprised of the situation, but an organisation called Initiative has detained one of my crewmen and they are unwilling to release him or even disclose his location. You should—"

"Yes, I know," the old woman cut Jon off with a gesture. "And you, Captain, should not tell me what I should or shouldn't do."

However, she did understand the Human.

"Captain Archer, we trust and respect the Initiative. Indeed, it is an honour to work for them and there was a time in our history when their work had literally saved our people and our world. I agree with Gcrchamsha-Sahker, Initiative had every right to take Commander Tucker."

Archer tried hard not to lose his patience again.

"The Vulcans—" he started only to be interrupted again.

"The Vulcans understand it is not their place to question or interfere in a world or culture that is not their own. You would do well to follow their example." Jatek looked at Jon sternly.

"But _you_ are interfering in _our_ culture."

"Is that so?" The woman seemed amused, but her next words sounded more than serious. "We are protecting ourselves and helping you."

"I'm sorry," Jon didn't sound sorry at all, "but we cannot accept such help. I want my crewman back."

"And you cannot deny us the right to protect ourselves from what your Commander is. I must say, Captain, that you surprise me. You are putting the rest of your crew in danger by insisting on releasing Mr Tucker before he can be given the full treatment. You _must_ see that."

Archer shook his head; this was going nowhere. He was strating to wish for his security people. Unfortunately, not bringing them was also part of making the right impression. Lieutenant Hart had not been happy.

"I see we won't agree on this and I say it with regret. Madam." The Captain bowed and turned around. He gestured to T'Pol and Sato and the three of them left the Embassy.

The old Viittian watched them, thinking that Humans were either incredibly stupid or incredibly reckless. Or perhaps both. Odd because otherwise they seemed to be quite intelligent.

Outside Jon briefly summarised the one salient point of his conversation with Jatek. Namely that if they wanted Trip back before the Initiative finished 'curing' him, they would have to find him themselves.

"Sir," Hoshi spoke after a moment of silence. She wanted to ask that question since she heard Gcrchamsha's revelations. "Is it true that Commander Tucker is, well..." she hesitated. "A vampire?" It sounded so unreal.

"I'm afraid it is." Archer looked particularly gloomy.

"Oh."

"Ensign," T'Pol was looking at her as if assessing what impact this bit of news had on Hoshi's emotional stability. "I hope you understand that this information is strictly confidential."

"Of course," Hoshi agreed automatically, thinking of the past month or two.

She had wondered why Enterprise came back to Rahte. She wasn't likely to forget what had happened the first time their landing party went there.

Come to think of it, Trip hadn't really been a hundred per cent himself since the day they set foot on the planet. Then there was his stay in Sickbay... Yes, he was ill, but Hoshi couldn't find out what exactly was wrong with him. Phlox of course, didn't tell her and Trip, when she came to visit him, never spoke of it too. He either steered the conversation clear off the uncomfortable topic or blatantly changed the subject the one time she asked him outright. After that Hoshi didn't want to pry.

And then there was Reed.

Why had Enterprise stayed close to his homeworld for so long? Could it be him that...

Well, the answer to her questions seemed pretty obvious now. And twice as disturbing.

The Captain opened his communicator and hailed the ship.

"Hart here, sir."

"Any progress with finding Commander Tucker?"

"Not yet, sir."

On the Bridge the Lieutenant sent a cautious glance towards Reed, who was pacing to and fro with a determined expression on his face.

"Keep looking. We have to find him and I hope to God it will be sooner rather than later."

"Yes, sir." Hart was about to close the channel, but Reed stopped by his station and spoke,

"Captain, I can find him."

"How?" was Jon's immediate response. Then, "Never mind. Where is he?"

"I don't exactly know. Somewhere there." Malcolm pressed a palm to his forehead; he could feel Charles, but naming his exact physical location was near impossible. Malcolm's frustration and anger were almost palpable and only barely contained; his eyes glinted coldly and he fought the natural impulse to slip into his vampire face.

Hart surreptitiously reached for the holster with his phase pistol.

Noticing the furtive gesture, Reed gave the Lieutenant a sour smile. "I can lead you to him, though. I just have to get to that bloody planet."

There was a long silence on the other side of the connection.

"All right," Archer finally said. "Lieutenant, take Shuttlepod Two and bring Mr Reed and one of your security men with you. We could probably use more," Archer went on as if hearing Hart's thoughts, "but I don't want to tramp all over the place, armed to the teeth while there still might be a chance of resolving this somehow more peacefully."

The Lieutenant thought the Captain's hope wasn't very realistic, but kept it to himself.

"Aye, sir."


	13. Chapter 13

Trip looked around his cell. There wasn't much. In fact, there was only his bed which consisted of a mattress lying on the floor and a thin threadbare blanket. Trip was almost grateful for their presence. Not because he was cold (and the mattress had to be the most lumpy, uncomfortable thing he had ever slept on), but those were the only splashes of colour. Faded and unremarkable in every other aspect, but something to rest his eyes on in an otherwise drab cell.

Trip's gaze slid over the bare walls again, only to return to the locked door. Although _that_ was perhaps too generous a term. It was more like a door-shaped hole in the wall, with metal bars embedded in the concrete. No lock nor handle, or at least none that were visible. The bars had to be retractable, Trip thought; old-fashioned, but effective. Well, at least he could see what was outside.

Trip stared into the dim depths of a corridor that stretched before his cell, and absently scratched his arm. Right after he had woken up, he noticed there was a faint red pinprick in the crook of his arm – such as might be left by a needle – but now it was gone. He wondered what he could've been injected with because he didn't feel any different. And so far no one questioned him about anything, so it couldn't have been truth-serum either. Maybe they just took another sample of his blood. And OK, this wasn't really funny, but Trip couldn't suppress a snort because, well, look who was acting like a vampire now, sucking out his blood via a handy hypospray needle.

Trip looked up. He thought he saw some movement in the corridor. He squinted and sure enough, there was a figure approaching him quickly. Trip stood up, ready to fight in case they were going to drag him to that lab again. When the figure came closer, though, it was all Tucker could do to keep his jaw from dropping in surprise.

"Capt'n!" The relief made him a bit light-headed. "I don't think I've ever been happier to see you."

Archer smiled, his own relief at finding his friend in one and seemingly unharmed piece equally obvious.

"Are you OK?" he asked, looking Trip up and down, needing to hear the confirmation from the man himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Hey, where are the others?"

"Waiting outside."

Archer fiddled with the setting on his phase pistol. "Move away, Trip," he said, pointing the pistol at the bars separating Tucker from the rest of the world. "I'll try to slice through some of these and cut a hole for you to get out."

Trip obediently stepped back and watched, narrowing his eyes, as the phase pistol's beam cut – slowly and with effort, but doing the job – through the metal.

Finally the gap was big enough for Trip to squeeze through.

"Great," he sighed, enjoying the freedom again. "Now we just have to—"

He didn't get to finish because suddenly all hell broke loose. The sound of phase pistols being fired mingled with shouts of the lab's security people and a distant whine of some sort of alarm.

"Shit," Archer swore, ducking and grabbing Trip by the arm. "This way." He hoped he remembered how to get out.

They made it out of the corridor and into another laboratory. They almost made it to the exit, but that's when Trip saw that one shot being fired and he just knew he wouldn't be fast enough. He tried, but even though he moved as quickly as he could, he didn't manage to push Jon out of harm's way.

"Capt'n?" Trip frenetically reached for his friend. Maybe the weapon was set to stun?

He couldn't feel Jon's pulse and, more importantly, he couldn't even hear his heartbeat. There was only a charred patch on Archer's uniform and blood seeping through.

For a few minutes Trip just sat there, mind blank, watching his friend's unmoving body. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't.

Jon _couldn't_ be dead.

Trip hardly ever cried, but he wasn't going to hold back tears if they came.

He awoke in another cell. This one looked pretty much like the decon chamber on Enterprise, only less cheery. Similar spartan interior with the addition of a heavy door with a porthole.

A little confused, Trip wiped the wetness from his cheek and glanced up to see a man in a lab coat looking at him and taking notes.

"Interesting reaction," the man said under his breath and disappeared from view.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Anger surged through Trip as he remembered Jon's death. He cursed and jumped up to the door. He pounded on it with his fists, shouting to be let out and calling his captors every foul name he knew. Nobody paid him the slightest bit of attention so Trip, frustrated beyond words, switched to pacing around his cell. Eventually he got tired of that too; he sat down in a corner and after a while fell into uneasy slumber.

He woke up to a scratching noise coming from the door. Someone was trying to open it. Trip crouched down, preparing for the worst, but when the door finally cracked open and he saw who was on the other side, he couldn't restrain an excited shout.

"Malcolm!"

Reed put a finger to his lips, gesturing for Trip to be quiet.

"Malcolm," Trip repeated, quieter this time as he came to stand beside the other man. "They killed Jon."

Trip wasn't even aware how much that thought hurt until he said it out loud.

"I know. I'm sorry." Reed's eyes held a glimmer of compassion – not a usual sight.

Trip clenched his teeth. "The Starfleet'll make the bastards pay for it in no time, but first _I'm_ gonna make sure they'll regret it." Trip slipped into his vampire face. "You got a gun?"

"Hart gave me two phase pistols." Reed handed one to Trip. "But I really don't think going and looking for the soldiers now is the best thing to do. Let's just get out of here." Although Malcolm would never say it, being on the Initiative's territory made him tense and edgy. He wanted out as soon as possible.

"We won't be looking for them," Trip said, adjusting the pistol's setting to 'kill', "but when they come after us, we'll take as many as we can. C'mon, Mal."

With cold determination Trip strode out from his cell into the adjacent laboratory and then further out, blasting with a certain amount of glee some hi-tech and expensive-looking lab equipment to pieces on his way out. Malcolm followed close behind.

In the end the group of soldiers that got them wasn't even that big. And though it was made even smaller by Tucker's and Reed's phase pistols, someone from that group managed to hit Trip with a kind of paralyser, judging by the effects. Unfortunately, it didn't leave Trip unconscious, merely unable to move and when he fell down to the floor, he could only watch helplessly as one of the soldiers finally also shot Reed.

Then he watched as the soldier reached for a wooden stake at his belt and with a practised move drove it into Malcolm's chest.

There was an almost soundless explosion of dust. Before it even settled, Trip felt numbness spread over him and swallow his mind.

After that it was like Tucker could never wake up properly. Everything was dulled, muted and Trip retreated into his own head; the outside world fading into vague background noise. He wasn't even hungry anymore.

The Initiative scientists continued to perform tests on him; most of them painful and most of them when he was conscious. Trip watched without emotion the deep gash in his arm, made there to determine how quickly he healed. The process wasn't as fast as it normally was. Maybe because one of the major veins was cut or maybe because Trip hadn't eaten since he was caught.

He didn't know how long ago that was either. It could be a few hours or it could be weeks. Trip wondered if it was possible for a vampire to starve to death. He didn't much care.


	14. Chapter 14

Shuttlepod Two smoothly landed in the place vacated by Shuttlepod One. Archer had ordered T'Pol and Sato to go back to the ship. As far as he was concerned the time for talking was past and he felt his science officer could be of more use on Enterprise than here.

"Mr Reed," the Captain said, once their team filed out of the shuttlepod, "we have to trust you on this. I hope you know what you're doing."

"Of course," Reed nodded curtly. He knew perfectly well.

Without another word he set out at a brisk pace, leaving the rest to follow him.

He still felt the suspicious glances Hart cast in his direction from time to time, but he wasn't bothered. Now, the only truly important thing was finding Charles. Something bad had happened, Malcolm could feel it, but so far Charles was still there – a reassuring, if frail presence in his mind.

"Are you sure you can find Trip?" They had been walking for two hours when Archer eventually asked the question.

Frankly, during that time Jon's small doubts grew into big doubts and were starting to segue into outright disbelief with a healthy dose of hopelessness thrown in as well.

"I am," Reed replied tensely.

He reckoned they were actually pretty close, but the Viittian sun had just started rising. They were outside the city limits, in the open space and in maximum thirty minutes he'd have to hide somewhere if he wanted to avoid becoming a pile of vamp dust. Yes, according to Phlox, he no longer had to worry about sun, but Malcolm still didn't fully trust the Doctor. Well, it looked like he would have a perfect opportunity to form a properly informed opinion in, oh, about twenty minutes. Jolly.

Malcolm quickened his pace.

In fifteen minutes the group reached a line of trees and the sun finally rose. Reed instinctively darted into the trees' shadow, but – out of curiosity – he let the sun rays touch his hand. He winced, expecting the burning pain to shoot along his arm, but nothing happened. Malcolm stared at his palm, amazed, only slowly becoming aware of the looks the Humans were giving him. They were puzzled and mildly annoyed, he decided. Oh, and Archer seemed to be smirking.

Reed collected himself and clearing his throat pointed to a small hill about a hundred metres away. It looked unremarkable, but at closer inspection revealed a concrete structure rising about half a metre above the ground level.

"Is that what I think it is?" Hart squinted into the distance.

"That's probably one of the entrances to their underground laboratory," Reed nodded, confirming Hart's thoughts. "The Initiative had something similar on Rahte." It looked like some things didn't change.

He wondered if the security around those additional ways in was similarly lax. It would really save them time and trouble.

"Tepes," Archer turned to Hart's subordinate, "go back for the shuttlepod. We're gonna need a quick transport out. Land as close as you can."

The crewman nodded and set off, retracing their steps.

"And we have a visit to pay." With a phase pistol firmly in hand, Archer took the lead and trying to make as little noise as possible, ran towards the structure marking the lab's entrance.

It looked a bit like a ventilation duct, but when the Captain peered inside, he saw metal bars that served as a ladder protruding from the wall, and then a concrete floor further below. In the faint light that was coming from the outside, Jon couldn't really see much more.

He took out his scanner, but it was pretty much useless. Whatever shielding the Viittians used, it was damn effective.

"I'll go first."

That was Reed. He sat on the brim of the 'well' and swung his legs inside.

"Wait," Archer stopped him before he could climb down. "There might be someone there."

"There isn't." Yep, so far so good, Malcolm thought.

"How do you know?" Hart too stared frustrated at his scanner which didn't show a thing.

Malcolm flashed the two Humans a chilling smile. "I don't hear any heartbeats." He leant a little further in, listening and sniffing the air. "I'd say we're safe, but just in case I'm wrong..."

He didn't finish and instead started climbing down.

Malcolm reached the bottom and looked around. Just as he thought – not a soul in sight. He gestured for Archer and Hart to join him.

They stood in what Jon had previously thought would be a corridor, but was in fact a room. The only way out, beside the one they'd just used to get in, was a solid-looking door on the far end. Locked, of course.

Reed was already inspecting it and as Archer saw him nod with apparent satisfaction, he unconsciously took a step backwards. Good thing he did because the next moment there was a loud screeching noise as Malcolm wrenched the door almost clear off the wall.

Jon was a little stunned by the display and Hart subtly pointed his phase pistol at Reed. The vampire's strength unnerved him.

"The rust did most of the job," Malcolm said, sparing the Humans half a glance. Privately he was amused because the door really was half-eaten by rust and if it hadn't been, he would have never been able to do what he did. He really wasn't _that_ strong. Still, it was nice the Humans had so much faith in him.

They all stood for a while, listening if the noise alerted someone to their presence. It didn't seem so, and so they moved forwards, further into the lion's den, Reed taking the lead again.

He felt Trip was close, but something wasn't quite right. It was like his presence was slowly, but surely growing weaker. He couldn't be starving; even if Charles was still a Fledgling it would be far too soon. And he couldn't be exactly dying either. Vampires didn't die slowly, they simply ceased to exist.

Unless he was given some drugs. A lot and often, and maybe his body wasn't able to cope...

Malcolm walked faster, but after a few steps he stopped abruptly.

"What is it?" Hart asked in a whisper.

Reed shook his head, listening. Someone was coming. Malcolm heard only one set of footsteps – no danger, then, but also no point in risking being noticed.

He dragged Archer and Hart behind a conveniently close corridor's turn. The Humans finally heard the newcomer too, just a moment before the figure was passing by their hiding place.

It was a woman dressed in some sort of military garb. She didn't see them, fortunately, but Reed wasn't taking any chances. When she had her back fully to them, Malcolm silently slipped out of the shadows, grabbed her head and simply twisted it. There was a crack of bone being broken and the woman fell to the ground.

It happened so quickly that Hart and Archer didn't stand a chance of reacting. They stared for a few seconds at the body on the floor, before comprehension dawned.

"Mr Reed," the Captain's voice was quiet, but the tone verged on angry and brooked no arguments. "I don't want our mission to become a war. This," he gestured towards the body, "is the last person you killed. Do I make myself clear?"

Reed curled his lip in a sneer, showing his slightly elongated canines, but said nothing apart from "Yes." And "Sir" tagged on after a beat.

Certainly not an insult per se, but it sure sounded like one.

Archer let it pass for now.

They set off again, turning left. The Lieutenant imagined they must be near the main laboratory – they went quite deep into the maze of corridors. And so far it had been remerkably easy. Too easy perhaps.

Reed had similar thoughts. Where were the guards and soldiers? Surely, even if they weren't Initiative's brightest, they wouldn't abandon the base entirely. They had to be somewhere, especially this close to the central part of the complex.

They turned right and Malcolm stopped. This was it.


	15. Chapter 15

_This was it._

Charles was right there.

In one quick move Reed flattened himself against a wall, noticing with approval that the Humans did the same.

Before them there was a door with a small square window in it through which they could see a few people working. Malcolm concentrated on the sounds – two sets of footsteps, but three... no, four heartbeats. He carefully peeked through the window: two Viittians moved around the laboratory.

He crouched to avoid being seen and put his ear to the door. He could hear better now. The remaining two had to be standing close by the door, keeping guard.

Reed smiled nastily, three to four – shouldn't be a problem.

He crept to where Hart and Archer were standing.

"There are four of them and they've got Trip."

The Lieutenant glanced involuntarily at the door. "We have to surprise them and quick. Those people can't be given the slightest chance to raise the alarm."

"Phase pistols to stun." ordered Archer.

Reed had also got the pistol, Hart reluctantly admitting in the end that it was only logical. Malcolm thought it was a pretty little toy. And quite deadly; he liked it.

"Ready?"

At their confirming nods Archer rose, walked to the door and did what, considering the situation, was tediously ordinary: he knocked.

Through the window he saw that a man who was closest to the door, turned around and frowned. Then he made a kind of shooing gesture and faced the inside of the room again.

Not good.

Jon knocked again and this time the door opened a fraction.

"What—" was all the guy managed to say before Archer stunned him unceremoniously.

Hart and Reed followed the Captain into the lab and made short work of shooting the other three.

Archer took a look around the laboratory. It wasn't a nice place. All cold sterile surfaces and ruthless efficiency. He shivered a little, seeing what seemed to be an operating table – ready for use. Glancing at two unconscious figures lying on the floor – a man and a woman, both wearing lab coats – it occurred to him that they probably were preparing for some kind of medical procedure.

He abruptly remembered what the Initiative wanted to do to 'cure' Trip. Thank God they were on time. For a second Jon felt almost weak with relief, but the feeling was gone as quickly as it came. Were they really on time?

The Captain strode towards Hart who stood in another doorway leading from the laboratory into a small room. Inside there was a figure sitting hunched in a corner.

"Trip!" Archer rushed in as soon as he saw him.

"Is he all right?" he anxiously asked Reed who squatted down in front of Tucker and peered at him with a frown.

"More or less," Reed answered, not taking his eyes off of Trip. "They haven't stuck that chip in him yet." He opened his palm and the remains of a smashed microchip – nothing more than dust now – dropped onto the floor.

Through the whole exchange Trip didn't move. It was as if he didn't hear a word.

"Trip?" Archer tried again. "Commander Tucker?"

He touched Trip's shoulder.

Tucker finally lifted his head. He looked first at Malcolm, then at Jon and recognition slowly began to dawn. For a moment there was sheer joy, but quickly the expression on his face turned cold, and then angry.

"Get away from me," Trip hissed, furious. "I don't give a damn about your tests, but don't you play with my head like that. Bastards. Ya think I don't remember what happened?"

"Charles." Malcolm's voice carried a warning.

Trip shed his human face – something he avoided doing until now, but he was nearly beside himself with rage.

"Don't you dare." He bared his fangs.

Archer drew back a little.

"Trip," he tried again. "Don't you recognise us?"

Tucker growled, but Jon was not to be deterred. He reached again for his friend, but that turned out to be a big mistake.

In a flash Trip knocked Archer to the ground, his hands on Jon's throat.

Reed moved fast, but it was Hart who actually saved the Captain from being strangled by his best friend. The Lieutenant, watching from his vantage point by the door, simply used his phase pistol when he judged it necessary and stunned the Commander.

Archer sat up and massaged his throat. Damn, he would have to do something about Trip having this tendency to try and kill him when he got angry.

Jon quickly sobered and pulled out his scanner. It still didn't work.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked Reed.

Malcolm nipped Trip's wrist, tasting his blood. It was a sign that Hart was getting used to the situation because he only flinched a little when he saw that. Admittedly, the Lieutenant didn't exactly take Tucker's vampirism in stride, but at least he was able to face it without too much horror or disgust. Time would only tell if he still trusted the Commander as completely as before.

"He was poisoned with something," Malcolm finally said, grimacing as he detected a sour tang.

"How dangerous is it?" Jon's worry went up a notch. He kneeled beside Tucker and pressed two fingers to his neck to feel the pulse. It was faint, but steady.

"Not very," Reed replied frowning. "Though I expect it would be fatal if he were still human."

Archer looked at Reed in mild alarm, and Malcolm lifted a corner of his mouth in a small smile that the Captain found rather unsettling.

Right.

"Sir," Hart was looking in the direction they'd come from. "We'd better get moving. The guards can be here any minute."

"You're right." Archer rose to his feet and Reed followed suit, at the same time lifting Trip in his arms.

Jon eyed him warily, but realised Trip was actually quite safe there, at least for the time being.

"Let's go."

The Lieutenant peered outside the laboratory they were in. The coast was clear, so they began careful, but hasty retreat.

Retracing their steps was easy enough. Definitely too easy in Malcolm's opinion, though he wasn't going to complain.

Hart also kept glancing around, unknowingly sharing Reed's thoughts, his instincts telling him that everything went entirely too smoothly and that troubles were about to start any minute now.

And so they did.

Reed heard the soldiers first, but it didn't make much difference as they surrounded the four, including Trip now, effectively trapping them in one of the corridors. They couldn't do much.

Archer and Hart ducked one way, the Lieutenant firing his phase pistol and luckily stunning one or two Viittians.

Reed ducked the other way, just around the corridor's bend. Too bad he couldn't escape, though – it was a dead end.

He laid Trip down on the floor, out of harm's way or at least as close to it as he could. There was nothing else to do until Trip regained consciousness.

And then Malcolm faced their attackers.

He did have a phase pistol, but now he felt like getting some exercise and using a more traditional approach. And his old knife. Well, a dagger, really. Just as well that Hart didn't know he had it; the man would get a heart attack just thinking that Reed always carried such a weapon with him. Malcolm smirked.

Besides, it wasn't like Viittian pulse rifles could do him much harm.

Putting to use his supernatural speed nad reflexes, Reed dodged the energy shots being fired from both sides, until he reached the group of soldiers blocking their only way out. If the four of them could get past, they would be at least a little bit closer to escaping.

He caught one man in the neck with his knife, slicing deeply through skin and veins underneath. The blood gushed out and Malcolm had to resist the urge to drink. He had no time for it, anyway. Even though he could clearly see now that there weren't as many soldiers as he had initially assumed (and in the first confused moments it looked like there were at least twenty of them, while in fact it was more like ten) Reed had his hands full trying to avoid being hit. He noticed the soldiers also had stakes. Pointy, wooden, evil-looking things.

He heard Archer's quiet gasp and Hart's curse – apparently the Humans weren't used to such a bloodshed, but at least they didn't try to stop him.

Suddenly he felt a familiar pair of eyes on him. He grinned – Charles woke up. He turned his head and saw Trip watching him, disbelief mixed with hope plain on his face. Malcolm could have laughed with joy, but at that moment he felt a rather nasty pain stabbing his side.

Shot from a pulse rifle. Didn't do too much damage, but was still bloody painful. He snarled, fangs out, at a soldier that happened to be the closest, and knocked him out cold. One obstacle less.

Meanwhile Jon noticed Trip gaping at the scene before him. He was extremely thankful that Tucker was at last acting more like his old, albeit stunned, self.

"Trip, catch!" Archer threw him a spare phase pistol, relieved to see the man snap out of his stupor and make use of the weapon.

Finally they managed to clear the path ahead and ran towards the exit. Trip was still rather confused, his head full of questions he was dying to ask, but he knew that would have to wait. The Initiative didn't give up easily and the soldiers chased after them with tenacity of hellhounds.

It was a small miracle they didn't get lost in the corridors, Jon thought, but in the end they reached the spot the three of them started from. Now they all stood at the bottom of the 'well' and Archer really hoped the Initiative didn't send any backup to wait for them up on the surface.

"I'll go first," said Hart, gripping his phase pistol tightly as he began climbing up.

They had put quite a distance between them and their pursuers, but the sounds of army boots bangigng against the concrete floors and the soldiers closing in were all too clear.

Mercifully, all was quiet on the surface, and the shuttlepod only a couple of metres away, ready to take off any minute.

"All clear," Hart called and waited for the rest to climb up.

When Trip hopped out and disappeared from his sight, Malcolm allowed himself to think gratefully that they were safe at last.

Unfortunately his satisfaction was very short-lived. The soldiers chose that precise moment to catch up with them and they wasted no time firing at Archer and Reed – the only ones still remaining down in the complex.

There was no time left for thinking. Malcolm leapt up on the ladder, trying to shield Archer from the shots. They couldn't afford the hindrance of an unconscious Human right now.

Reed smelt burnt fabric and flesh – despite his efforts Archer must have been nicked and Malcolm himself felt another jolt of pain in his tigh. Direct hit, but it didn't slow him down too much.

And they almost made it, the Captain pressing his hand to his shoulder with a grimace, but running towards the shuttlepod. When Malcolm was about to finally set his foot on the ground, though, he heard a strange noise.

And old-fashioned shotgun, he later realised.

He nearly screamed in agony. Pain, much worse than anything he had experienced so far, spread through his chest, burning him, gutting and leaving ashes.

It felt like silver and holy water.

No forgetting what you are, Malcolm thought as the world greyed around the edges. The colour of smoke and rain clouds, he had read somewhere. If it weren't for the excruciating pain, he would quite appreciate the irony as his own flesh smoked. Must've been holy water all right...

Malcolm was vaguely aware of hands pulling him up and carrying him somewhere, but there was no telling if those hands were Humans' or Viittians', and then he blacked out.


	16. Epilogue

Trip moaned softly as Malcolm retracted his fangs and licked a few drops of blood left on Trip's neck.

"You sure you don't want more?" he asked, a little breathless from the pleasure rush.

"Mhm, I'm sure." Malcolm smiled, still nuzzling him.

"You know you're still recovering, right?" Trip shivered.

They were lying on a bunk in their shared quarters, but only a couple of hours ago Malcolm lay in Sickbay, paler than usual and, frankly, looking like a corpse.

A week earlier Phlox extracted from his chest a silver bullet – a bit more to the left and Malcolm would definitely be dust. The wound the bullet left was charred as if someone pushed a branding iron right through Reed's chest. It had been healing with difficulty and even now it was barely scarred over.

Malcolm had gone into some sort of coma – hadn't really regained consciousness since he was shot – and no one could do anything. No one _knew_ what to do. He didn't wake up till yesterday and when he finally did, Trip could've cried with happiness because before that he really was going crazy.

"I don't want to lose you. Hell, I thought I did lose you. Just like Jon." Trip pressed himself closer to the other vampire. "And then I find it was some kind of hallucination and _then_ you nearly get yourself killed."

"I'm fine, really." Malcolm murmured. "You've heard what Phlox said. All I need is a few proper meals."

"Well, I don't think there'll be a problem with that," Trip smiled a little, "now that the Capt'n let you stay."

"Yeah, for a while at least. It does seem there are some perks to putting yourself in the line of fire, doesn't it?" Malcolm arched one eyebrow.

Trip leant back and gave him The Look.

"You scared the shit out of me, you know."

"Sorry," Malcolm sighed.

"Yeah, you'd better be." Trip settled against Malcolm's side.

A moment later he heard a soft, low sound coming from the back of Malcolm's throat. He grinned delightedly – his Sire was purring for him.

The sound was soothing and it wasn't long before Trip's eyes closed as he fell asleep, Malcolm following soon after.


End file.
